


What It Takes

by AuburnRed



Series: Lose One Friend [1]
Category: Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World
Genre: Abused husbands, Angst, Child Neglect, F/M, Homelessness, Miscarriages, Postpartum Depression, Poverty, Single Fathers, Stillbirths, Teen Pregnancy, Unhappy marriages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuburnRed/pseuds/AuburnRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Minkiad Universe. Companion piece to the Minkiad stories. Eric's old friend, Jason Marsden listens to Stuart's speech at the abuse support group meeting and recalls what it took to bring him there and seek help from his old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desiree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Marsden, Eric's friend attends the abuse support group meeting and listens to Stuart Minkus' speech. He recalls his unhappy marriage to Southern "Bag of Misery" Desiree Beaumont and the birth of his children, Justin and Annabelle.

What It Takes  
A Girl/Boy Meets World Fanfic  
By Auburn Red  
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me except Annie and Justin Marsden, Donna Valenzuela, and Mrs. Reynolds. They belong to Michael Jacobs and Disney. This for entertainment and fun.   
Author’s Note: And in the “Every Time I Think, I’m Out, They Pull Me Back In” File comes this, my third story set in the Boy Meets World/Girl Meets World universe. I didn’t plan on writing another one, but I was so haunted by the final abuse support group meeting scene in which Minkus and Katy meet Jason Marsden, Eric’s old friend, I was inspired to write this.   
While this is set in the Minkiad Universe, it is not technically part of the Minkiad, since it stars Jason. It could be considered a side story or companion piece (Similar to my The Prisoner fanfics, “Windmills Of Her Mind” is a companion piece to my “Motherless Child” stories). It contains many similar themes to the Minkiad stories, such as domestic violence and child abuse (particularly female on male), single parent struggles with children, and learning to trust others. Plus it also serves to fill in the blanks on what happened to Jason when he was “put on a bus” after the second season of Boy Meets World. 

Chapter One: Desiree   
I hear the rich guy, Stuart Minkus, wrap up his speech. I mean yeah I heard about his fights with his wife and their accusations of abuse. They were all over the gossip rags for months, even got sick of hearing about it. But I guess I always thought, no way could this guy have the same problems as me. I mean he’s a multi-millionaire. He probably never had to worry about feeding his kids or wonder where they were going to sleep for the night. I’m sure if he ever felt that he or his kids were threatened by his wife, he could always call a bodyguard or the police would come right away.   
I look upstairs wondering how Justin and Annie are doing with all of those strange kids. Justin may be shy, sizing up the situation trying to make himself invisible or waiting until someone asks him a question before he answers. Annie could be emotional, in tears wanting to be with her Daddy or she might be in one of her friendlier moods introducing herself, already taking charge. Of course Justin is keeping an eye on his little sister. I wonder if I should be with them.   
I’m hearing Stuart Minkus’ speech and realize that it’s something I could have easily said. There it was the bad tempers, the insults, the jealous tantrums if I wasn’t “where I was supposed to be,” and of course the mistreatment of the kids. It is all familiar. I guess maybe it doesn’t matter if you have money or you don’t have money. If you’re abused, you’re abused. It does feel good that another guy has been there. I just wish that I wasn’t. 

Of course, I really have no one to blame but myself. I knew that my ex-wife, Desiree was a “bag of misery.” I warned Eric not to date her and after they broke up, what did I do? I dated her. In fact, I did more than that.   
A month after we first had sex, in my dad’s car, she paged me. I had just returned from the mammoth SAT study session. Eric was acting so nuts, freaking out over everything. I just decided to get some air rather than listening to any more of his weird ranting. Desiree paged me to come see her right away because she had an emergency. I braced myself figuring it was something trivial and unimportant or she wanted me to take her somewhere like the mall. I really should break up with her, I thought for the hundredth time since we first went out. But for some reason I never seemed to get around to it.   
I entered her palatial home and said to her mother with an exaggerated Southern accent as I often did when I visited Desiree’s family, “Howdy, Mrs. Beaumont, I just rode in from Gettysburg to give a report on the Northern War of Aggression.”   
Desiree’s mother, a tall woman with short dark hair who almost never smiled, rolled her eyes and called through the intercom. “Desiree, that small person is here to see you and please lower your conversations to a quiet level. I am having one of my headaches.”   
“Send him up, Mama,” Desiree said. I could tell that she was crying. Mrs. Beaumont led me upstairs to her daughter’s bedroom.  
“Perhaps you can make some sense of her,” Mrs. Beaumont said to me, “She has remained in bed and appears to have caught some awful flu bug. She missed her monthly visitor-“  
“-Relatives haven’t come by yet?” I asked. Mrs. Beaumont gave me a frigid look and I got it. “Oh, her monthly visitor!” How do you say TMI in Southern?   
Mrs. Beaumont continued to describe her daughter’s illness, “Desiree hasn’t eaten much and vomits something awful in the morning.” I was a bit embarrassed by Mrs. Beaumont describing her illness, but I was concerned hoping to play the hero who gets Desiree her chicken soup and sits by her bedside.  
“If she doesn’t eat very much how can she vomit,” I asked wryly. Mrs. Beaumont glared at me clearly upset that I wasn’t appearing to take her daughter’s condition as seriously as she did.   
“I sent Oliver and Elizabeth to go and get her some medicine but the help are lazy as always, especially the colored ones,” Mrs. Beaumont said. I inwardly rolled my eyes. It annoyed me how Desiree’s family acted with people around them like their servants.   
“Yeah you can’t trust some people these days,” I said dryly. “What with that whole emancipation, being free thing.”

Mrs. Beaumont glared and waved me into her room where my girlfriend lay in her pink silk pajamas and a matching headband around her hair. She was in her room surrounded by paintings of plantations, Gone With the Wind movie posters, and photos of Desiree from her child beauty pageant days when she won titles with names like “Little Miss Magnolia,” “Little Miss Lipstick,” and “Junior Miss Atlanta” where she posed with big hair, lots of makeup, and outfits that were better on grown women. (Jonbenet’s and Honey Boo Boo’s moms would have looked at them and thought, “That’s a bit much!”)   
“’That small person?’ Your mom is finally coming around. I used to be ‘that insignificant speck of a man.’ I think she’s starting to like me.” I said to her. I thought that I would make her laugh, but instead she started to cry.   
She did look sick and I sat next to her, “Okay Desiree what can I get you?” I asked.  
“Could you take me somewhere, my little cream puff?” she asked.  
“Big sale at the mall?” I said.  
“No could you take me to the maternity ward?” She was in tears. “Jason, darlin, I’m pregnant.” She sobbed at me, her feathery Southern accent almost made her words unintelligible. She showed me not one, not two, but three positive early pregnancy tests to confirm it. 

Well not exactly what any soon to be high school senior wants to hear, especially when he wants to prepare for college, maybe do something with his life. We discussed all the possibilities with the doctor that examined her. Abortion was out, not because either of us were against it. But Desiree’s doctor said that there were some issues with her internally that if she had one, it would cause too much strain on her and she couldn’t have children later. We discussed adoption, but Desiree said, “I don’t wanna go through all that and then have to give up my baby,” she said. “Don’t make me give it up!” She gave me that same helpless look that used to drive me wild. I held her hand tightly.  
“You won’t have to give it up, Desi” I said.   
“Yes I will,” Desiree sobbed. “Mama and Daddy would never let me raise the baby on my own.”   
“You won’t have to give the baby up and you won’t have to raise it on your own,” I said as I slipped my high school class ring on her finger. “You can marry me.”   
She looked doubtful. “You mean marry you? Live without Daddy’s money and him and Mama supporting me? I’ve never done that before. I don’t even know how to boil tea! We always had servants doing everything for me! I wouldn’t know how.”   
“Then I’ll do it all,” I promised. “When my grandmother died, she left me some money. It’s not much but it will help us find an apartment. I’ll leave school and work full-time for all three of us. I can cook well nothing fancy but processed food works and I’ll take care of the house until you learn how. Desi, the burden will all be on me. The only thing you have to do is lie back and get that little one out of you.”   
She looked at me silently and I said, “Come on say yes, Puddin’.” I purposely used the nickname that she loved and annoyed the hell out of me.  
Desiree smiled as though the sun finally came up. “Yes…Puddin’.” She kissed me in that long way that I loved. 

And there it was. We got married. No one came to our wedding. Her parents thought that I wasn’t good enough for her and threatened to cut Desiree off without a dime. (I believe the phrase “that Northern Jewboy who couldn’t keep that thing between his legs” was thrown around about me.) Desiree threw a fit and said that they always gave her what she wanted and she was going to marry me whether they liked it or not.  
My parents thought that I was throwing my life away, especially after I told them I was dropping out of school to support Desiree and the baby.  
My Dad said, “Son, you know that we are not a rich family. Your mother and I scrimped and saved to create a college fund for you and you are just pissing on it by making the wrong choices!”   
“I know what I’m doing, Dad,” I said. “I thought it through and we’re going to be okay. I’m going to use that money Bubbie left me and we’re going to move to an apartment downtown. I will work and get my GED. After the baby’s born, I’ll get a degree and a better job.”   
“And what will Desiree be doing in the meantime?” Dad asked. “It seems that you are the one making all the sacrifices. After all, it’s easy to encourage someone else to drop out of school when they’ve already graduated.”   
I stalled for a moment. “Well, she’ll have the baby,” I said. “She’ll figure it out after that.”  
My Mom said, “Jason, someday you are going to wake up and realize that you gave your teen years away.”   
My Dad shook his head and said sarcastically (Mom always said that she knew where I got my sarcasm from), “Don’t bother trying to explain anything to him, Loretta. He knows what he’s doing! Jason, just know that you are on your own. We are not going to give you money! Your mother and I won’t be your babysitters. We won’t be there to pick up the pieces if you two get bored with parenthood. You made your bed, you can lie in it!”   
“Fine,” I said as I stormed out of the house. Desiree and I met after we confronted both our parents with the news and spent the night in a hotel.

When I handed Mr. Feeny my drop-out form he said, “Mr. Marsden, I admire your decision to take responsibility for the situation by marrying Miss Beaumont. This is a step not many young men would take. However, I cannot sign this form in good conscience without warning you that you are jeopardizing your entire future.”  
I picked up the form which he signed and said, “Mr. Feeny, I’m not Cory and Eric and I don’t live next door to you. Your opinion is noted, but don’t expect that you can tell me what to do and I will instantly obey or instantly learn from you if I don’t.”

When I cleaned out my locker, Eric looked at me instantly. “Desiree’s pregnant and you’re the father?” He yelled. I didn’t tell him. School gossip works that way.   
He thought that I was crazy and couldn’t believe that someone who was smart enough to pass his SAT’s with high scores didn’t know enough to use a condom.   
“We did, Eric,” I said. “But condoms are only effective 98% of the time.” Even less if the condom slipped like mine did.  
“So that means they’re not effective….” He counted in his head.   
“2% of the time,” I corrected knowing that my friend couldn’t add two and two. Of course he was also the friend who came to my Bar Mitzvah because he thought they would serve him alcohol. (After all, it was a Bar Mitzvah) But then again, he was smart enough to wait and not get in as much trouble as I did.   
I cleaned out the books and threw out all of the athletic posters and sayings that I had collected in the trash. I sighed feeling that I was throwing away my youth and was becoming a grown-up. Was I ready for this?   
Eric kept objecting to it. “Jason, are you sure that it’s yours?”   
“Yes I am, Eric,” I insisted.  
“But you know she’s had other boyfriends,” Eric said. Then his eyes widened. “It could even be mine!”  
I rolled my eyes. “Eric you broke up with her six months ago and she’s only been pregnant for one month. Besides all you two did was kiss.” I knew for sure the baby was mine. Except for Desiree’s kisses to her previous boyfriends and a fooling around session with her escort to her Sweet 16 party (who later came out of the closet) and my previous relationship with the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue and my hand, we had no prior experience. Without going into any gory details about that night, until then we were both virgins. I knew for sure. “Eric, it was the first time for both of us. It’s definitely my baby and Desiree is going to be my wife.”   
“You don’t have to do this, Jason,” Eric said.   
I looked at Eric. “And what am I supposed to do? Desiree can’t have an abortion and she doesn’t want to give it up.”   
“Do what the guys on Maury or Jerry Springer do,” Eric said. “Say ‘It ain’t my baby!’ until the DNA test proves otherwise!”   
I glared at my friend not believing that he would ask me to deny my own child. “I would always know that it was mine, Eric! It’s my responsibility and I have to do this. I want to do this.”  
“But to Desiree?” Eric asked. “I mean yes she’s beautiful, but you…were only in it for the break up kiss!”  
“Well one break up kiss turned into others and…things happened,” I shrugged.   
“I can see that,” Eric said. “But to marry her? You’re making the biggest mistake of your life!”  
I sighed. “Well if I am, it’s my life and it’s my mistake. So you going to come to our wedding? It’s tomorrow night in front of the Justice of the Peace.”  
Eric shook his head. “Jason, I can’t.” He said more seriously than I ever heard. “I just…I can’t pretend that this would be anything, but a mistake. But you’re my friend and I will always be there if you need me.”   
I shook Eric’s hand. I don’t know if I understood then, I really don’t know that I understand now. But Eric more than followed through on that promise, though it took years for me to accept it.   
So that was it, Desiree and I had a few minutes in front of a Justice of the Peace with only the justice’s wife and a friend of theirs as witnesses. No Southern Belle fairy tale wedding for Desiree. No traditional breaking of the glass, no family dancing around and lifting us on chairs for me. Just a few minutes and we were husband and wife. 

The irony was that there ended up being no reason for us to get married. After 7 months of pregnancy, she went into premature labor. The baby came out, but he didn’t move. Such a small little thing was born dead. We named him Rhett Otis Beaumont-Marsden and buried him.   
It’s weird to think that had Rhett lived, I would have a 21 year old son. I guess he would have as hard a life as the rest of us, so I should be glad that he didn’t make it. Desiree and I considered splitting up. She fell into such a depression, postpartum depression they called it. It happens to some women after the baby is born, but with Desiree it was made worse by the fact that the baby died. She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat, or take care of herself. For someone who cared so much about her personal appearance, then she didn’t. She wore the same clothes, stayed in bed, and her hair was a mess. She even said that she understood if I left her. Of course nothing moves someone to make a decision faster than guilt. I stayed with her. We didn’t have anyone else. 

I managed to get my GED while she was pregnant. After the stillbirth, I took a few classes at a community college to get a certificate in information systems, not only to find gainful employment but also to bury myself in some sort of work so I wouldn’t constantly grieve for our deceased son. Not exactly the big college education that my parents hoped for or me to tell the truth, but I did manage to make something of my future. I also worked my way through her pregnancy and through school doing odd jobs like short order cook, waiter, Wal-Mart cashier, and office janitor.   
Did I have second thoughts? Oh only a lot. I remember one time while Desiree was still pregnant, I was on my way home from work wearing that stupid Wal-Mart vest and ready to head to my second job cleaning offices. My arms were full with boxes of diapers, a stroller, baby food, baby clothes (all of which ended up not being used of course) and flowers (magnolias, Desiree’s favorite), chocolates, and a diamond ring to replace my class ring for my wife. I struggled to get the stuff on the bus when my eyes wandered to a couple of guys about my age shooting hoops. I thought how only a few short months ago that was me and Eric. My parents’ words echoed through my brain, It seems that you are the one making all the sacrifices…. Jason, someday you are going to wake up and realize that you gave your teen years away. I didn’t want to think any more about it as I hopped on the bus. 

After Rhett died, Desiree waited at home for me going through her depression.   
That’s when she started losing her temper. I left her money but it wasn’t enough. She wanted just a “little extra” because there was a sale or something expensive or frivolous that she wanted. If I disagreed with her, she cried and said that I didn’t love her or wasn’t taking care of her good enough. If I was late coming home, she constantly called or paged me asking where I was or who I was with. I suppose, “Stuck in traffic, Honey,” wasn’t a good enough reason to be late. If we were out and I spoke to another woman, she said “You think she’s prettier than me don’t you?” and I said no of course not, but then she would start a fight.  
The hypochondria also started. She constantly complained about headaches and tiredness and that “with her condition, she couldn’t possibly find any sort of employment.” It became her fallback position after a fight, so all she had to do was rub her head or speak in that far-off sickly voice and I caved. There were times when she refused to get out of bed because of her conditions either real or imagined. I don’t know if the illnesses were real a symptom of the PPD, or she just milked them or they were fake and she just wanted the attention from the one constant person in her life that could give it to her. Knowing Desiree, it was all of the above and of course I was her willing nurse who took care of her. God, I’m an idiot! 

After three years of marriage, Desiree had some ideas about becoming an actress or a model, so she suggested that we move to L.A. I wasn’t sure that it was a good idea, but I wanted to make Desiree happy and wanted her to overcome her depression. Maybe moving away would be good for both of us. I cannot emphasize enough how wrong I was.   
We moved to an apartment in North Hollywood that was really way above our price range at $850 a month but it was as close to the studios as I could afford so Desiree could audition nearby and it ended up being close to my job (which was a good thing because the only car I could afford was a used four door clunker. I couldn’t even call it a sedan).  
While there, I got an entry level job as a data processor at SoCal Insurance putting names and numbers on a spreadsheet all day and contacting clients for their current updated information. Desiree went on audition after audition, never getting noticed by any of the modeling agencies or directors. She had a few walk-ons and extras, a couple of cosmetics commercials, and posed for some print ads that paid scale, but that was it. Of course she faced these rejections in tears sobbing, “Why doesn’t anyone love me, my darlin’ Little Rock of Gibraltar?” I told her that I loved her and these directors didn’t know what they were talking about. “Maybe you were the wrong physical type,” I said. “The director was related to someone or sleeping with someone or they’re just jealous of your talent.” All of the lies I told to cheer her up, make her laugh, or to let her try again.   
During that time, she got pregnant twice. But both of those resulted in miscarriages and more postpartum depression after each one. Desiree’s obstetrician said that she had a genetic condition that while she could get pregnant not all of the fetuses would be carried to full term. Desiree remembered that her mother also had some miscarriages while she grew up. It explains why Desiree is an only child and probably why her parents spoiled her. I don’t know I’m not a psychiatrist, but in a strange way I guess it makes sense. 

I don’t really blame Desiree for being ambivalent and unconcerned when she was carrying Justin and then Annabelle. She probably figured what point was there in being hopeful when chances are, these babies would die too. Desiree had her tubes tied after our youngest was born so these would be her final children (an expensive surgery but a necessary one, since Desiree said in “no way under any circumstances am I going to get pregnant again.”). So there wasn’t any hope for more children.   
During these pregnancies, Desiree had been put on complete bed rest, to prevent any further miscarriages. She complained at first about missing out on auditions. (And when you consider that the kids were two years apart, that’s a lot of auditions that she missed out on) But on the plus side, she had a free House Servant who waited on her, rubbed her feet and back, drew her bath, ran her errands, served her meals in bed, put up with her bad temper, shouting, paranoid texting (upgraded from paging), and mood swings and ignored any of his own worries and anxieties in favor of those of the Mistress of the House. The first time was easier than the second time, since I had to just take care of Desiree. Desiree’s second time at bed rest was harder, because I had to not only look after my pregnant wife, but our infant son. I spent a great deal of that time away from work, taking care of two babies while one of them was preparing to give birth to another one.   
Thankfully these children were surprisingly healthy, maybe because of the bed rest or maybe because God said, “Okay, you’ve lost enough children. These are yours.”   
Justin Max Beaumont-Marsden (Hebrew name: Yeshua, “Saved by God”) and Annabelle Rose Beaumont-Marsden (Hebrew name: Avigail, “Father’s light, his joy”). I recently legally dropped the Beaumont from their names. Maybe it’s petty and childish of me, but why should Desiree get any credit for the wonderful children that I’m raising singlehanded?   
I don’t think that I would have had the strength to do half of the things that I have done without Justin and Annie in my life. They were little miracles that brightened up my day just by existing. I came home from work and enjoyed taking care of them and doing all of the Daddy things like giving them baths, or reading to them, or tucking them into bed, or watching TV with their little bodies falling asleep in my arms. They made everything worth it. 

I wish that I could say that Desiree felt the same way that I did, but she didn’t. She never bonded with the children, a symptom of PPD from what I heard but it lasted the whole time that Desiree was with them. She was never affectionate with them, just occasionally patted them on the heads or put her hands on their chins as if inspecting them for cleanliness.   
She said that she wasn’t comfortable doing the typical motherly duties, so she would often be out on auditions, taking acting or modeling classes, or finding other things to do that didn’t require two small children to cling to her. She often left the kids with babysitters while she went out during the day. Sometimes they accompanied Daddy to work which was not easy filling out database information, collating them in files, meeting my supervisor’s requests, and talking to clients over the phone while simultaneously feeding my infant daughter and rocking her while she cried and telling my toddler son to stop playing with the computer and the phone and to please color on the lined paper not the file folders. As much as I love them, I sighed with relief when they finally became old enough for school.

Desiree’s favorite phrase at the time was, “I gave birth to them.” Whenever one of the kids cried during the night and I had already taken care of them, she would moan “Jason, I gave birth to them.” If they needed to be fed or changed, she would say, “You take care of it, I gave birth to them.” As if her responsibility ended when they left the birth canal and now her work was done. Of course her husband took care of everything. I do believe that my spine was only used to hold up my neck.  
They say sleep when your baby sleeps, but that was really hard to do with two children who were close to the same age. When one was asleep, the other was awake. Even when they both finally nodded off, I heard that soft feathery Southern accent calling, “Jason, I need you,” and I would be off doing something for Desiree. There were times when I was literally running around the apartment in circles trying to meet the needs of my cranky son, sobbing daughter, and my temperamental wife.  
Let’s see which one was the most difficult of the three of them? I will give you a hint. The one that was old enough to say things like “If your people weren’t so tight with money, I could buy something nice, better than this cheap trash!” (“Cheap trash” that sometimes ran into the $1,000’s!) Or “I should have known better than to marry someone like you, a small Jew who got me into this! I could have done so much bettter than you and you know it!” or “If you don’t make those little brats stop cryin’, I’m going to drown the children and myself to teach you a lesson!”   
Ironically, all Justin and Annie ever did was act like typical kids their age and cried when their needs weren’t being met. They didn’t cut me down further than I already felt. 

Even as the kids got older and began school, our difficulties only got worse. Desiree continued to have a a short temper in front of the kids. If they were loud, asking questions, or bothering her, she yelled at them to shut up and called them and sometimes me names. Sometimes she ran into our bedroom and slammed the door in tears. Other times, she collapsed on the ground, stomped her hands and feet and threw a tantrum that was louder than anything that Justin or Annie could make. Of course she would blame it all on her “condition” she would say while rubbing her forehead and swooning.  
She was very hard and often critical with the kids, particularly Justin. Desiree often compared him to Rhett saying that Rhett would have been smarter, more obedient, and would have minded her. (I don’t know how true that would have been and that Desiree as many would have deified the deceased or she would have been just as hard on Rhett as the rest of us). She said that Rhett would never be the good-for-nothing that Justin was growing in his father’s image.  
If Justin did something that upset her, she would constantly threaten him to wait until his father came home. When I did, she would tell me to beat him with a belt because it was “the only way for him to learn to be a man.” She said that she couldn’t because “it was the father’s job to discipline his son.” I refused and never did. One of the few things that I put my foot down.   
I also put my foot down on the clothes that Desiree often wanted Annie to wear. If Desiree unfairly compared Justin to Rhett, she unfairly compared Annie to herself saying that she was ugly and that she needed to be pretty to get ahead in the world. Desiree wanted our daughter to be a pageant queen, but I insisted that she wait until Annie started school at least. Desiree agreed, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to give her heavy makeup and clothes that fit more of a girl twice Annie’s age. I kept having this mental image of pedos coming after my little girl and said that Desiree could dress however she wanted, but was not to dress our daughter in that way.   
I could tell that if Desiree had a favorite child besides the late Rhett, it would have been Annie and knew that she would play her and Justin off of each other. I had images of the future Desiree pampering Annie to follow in her footsteps as a beauty queen while Justin would be left out in the cold, neglected and abused. I also knew that if Annie didn’t fit Desiree’s vision of perfection and beauty, Desiree would turn on her too. She pushed our daughter to be more attractive, telling her that she was ugly or monitored her weight saying that she was getting fat, or that being nice or smart weren’t as important as being pretty. 

She was not only verbally abusive but neglectful as well. I came home to find that money I left for Desiree to pay the bills, rent, or for the children’s care were used instead for shopping trips to Rodeo Drive, facials, hair styles, or for her to go out clubbing so she could be seen by the Hollywood crowd that so far was not impressed. I guess she felt like she had a lot to catch up on after being on bed rest and giving birth, or she felt the pressure of ageist Hollywood and knew that if a woman hadn’t been discovered by the time she reached her mid-30’s, she had very little chance of being discovered ever. The most likely answer was that the only person that mattered in Desiree’s world was Desiree and why should something trivial like food and shelter get in the way of something really important like a cute strapless tube dress or a night out at the Viper Room?   
We then received cancellation notices or the power was cut off before I took care of it. She hadn’t made anything for dinner so the kids were hungry or they hadn’t been bathed   
and our home was filthy. I cooked meals, cleaned the apartment, did the laundry, took care of the kids, and tucked them in. (Burden all on me, right? I didn’t intend for that to be a life sentence! How often did I rue those words and wished I could have taken them back or reworded myself so we could work together.)  
I was irritated with Desiree when she returned from her “me time.” I got sarcastic and sometimes yelled at her. I tried to remind her that behavior that is considered attractive (though personally annoying) in a high school senior is not so much in a 30ish wife and mother. She asked why I was being so mean to her and that if I brought home more money or was home more often, she would be able to take better care of them.   
Desiree often accused me of having an affair which I politely (okay sometimes not too politely) reminded her that since I worked full-time, took care of the kids, the apartment, and her, I did not exactly have a very large window of time to have an affair. Since she went out, she had more chances than I did, but I never asked and probably didn’t want to know. 

Things really came to a head one night when Justin was 5 and Annie was 3.  
I came home from work to find the kids playing on the streets near oncoming traffic. I led them inside and sent them to their rooms so I could speak to their mother. Desiree had been inside the apartment. Apparently, the kids bothered her so much that she had one of her headaches and she told them to go outside to play without supervision. I asked “How could you be so irresponsible Desiree? What if they got into an accident? How would you feel then?”   
Desiree looked me up and down and said, “Oh I would feel bad at first. But I would get over it.” Clearly she mistook our children for dogs that if they got hit by a car, all we would have to do is go to the Kid Store downtown and buy another one. 

I should have left her. I should have packed up the kids and just took off, but I didn’t. I called a domestic abuse shelter and said that my children and I were being abused by my wife. The woman said, “Oh we don’t work with abused men. They don’t exist sir.” It’s nice to know that as far as that woman is concerned, I don’t exist. I was really worried about that.  
I was trapped, alone in a state where I had few friends or support. My family didn’t want to have anything to do with me and were in Philadelphia anyway. Plus, I knew that Justin and Annie needed me so I spent more time away from work and at home. If the kids or Desiree had the flu, I took a personal day. If I sensed Desiree was in one of her moods, I would be there to stand between her and the kids and take Justin and Annie out somewhere to a park or McDonald’s or somewhere to get away from their mother. It got to the point that when the company downsized thanks to the Great Recession, I wasn’t surprised to find that I was one of the unlucky employees given the pink slip. I did all right at the job, got adjusted to the database system, and even headed a few special projects. But I knew my frequent absences would not be favorable. Honestly, I only fault them for not firing me sooner. 

I came home so early that Justin was still in school and Annie was still at her daycare.  
Desiree was confused to see me and probably just as confused that I was holding a cardboard box full of my stuff. (She probably thought the box had stuff for her). I still remember her in that bright red romper dress and those black ankle boots. I had to admit that she was still beautiful even after two children, three failed pregnancies, and 17 years of marriage.  
I sat down and told her what happened. She was in denial at first. “No Jason,” she begged. “It’s not true! Why can’t you just go and get your job back?”   
I shook my head. “Desi, they’re downsizing. There wouldn’t be much of a business to come back to.” She began to sob and I held her whispering the typical things spouses do to say things will be okay when they aren’t. “Desi, we’ll be alright. I’ll find another job and I can collect unemployment. We’ll have to change the way we live, but we’ll be fine.”   
Desiree looked at me as though I slapped her. “What do you mean?” She begged.   
I looked around. “Well we’ll have to find a cheaper apartment than this one. $850 a month is too much on unemployment. No more shopping sprees or expensive stuff and you’re probably going to have to find a job yourself.”   
“I couldn’t get a job with my condition,” Desiree moaned. “And besides what if I get a part?” 

I shook my head and tried to choose my words carefully. After several years of failed auditions and casting calls, taking acting and modeling classes, going to places just to see and be seen, and making sure her clothes and makeup fit the current trends, she didn’t have much to show for her Hollywood dreams except two needy children, an unemployed husband, stacks of bills, and a fragile ego that constantly needed reassuring. “It’s not going to happen for you.”  
Desiree paled and just stared shocked. “How can you say that?”   
I rubbed my head in my hands. “I’m sorry, Desi, I didn’t mean it like that. But if you were going to be a star, wouldn’t it have happened by now? You’re just going to have to find…another dream.”   
Desiree sprang up. “No,” she crossed her arms and pouted. “No! No!” She screamed like a little kid. “I’m not gonna!”   
I grabbed Desiree’s arms and tried to steady her. “Desiree, I know you’re upset but we all have to step up!”  
“Or what?” She asked. “You’ll leave me?” She swooned, rubbed her forehead and spoke in that sickly voice. For once I was not going to cave.  
I sank down tired. “Desiree, I need you to help me. We are both going to have to work to get past this.”   
“What if I can’t?” Desiree asked. “What if I don’t wanna?”   
I sighed and looked at my watch. It was about time for the kids to be home from school, so I decided to take them out to cheer them up and to give Desiree some time to herself. I picked them up from school and we went to the local public library to see Wreck-It-Ralph. They seemed to like it, but I wasn’t able to pay too much attention I was so concerned with my problems. (Too bad too, I have seen it since and since I used to be a big-time gamer I thought it was hilarious.). We then had fast food and later went swimming at the apartment pool. 

By the time we returned, things were quiet too quiet. I told the kids to wait in the living room and watch TV while I headed to our bedroom to find my wife packing a suitcase. “What’s going on Desi?” I asked.   
“I called Mama and Daddy and Daddy sent money,” Desiree said.   
I was a little embarrassed that she had to tell her parents our problems, but I figured that there wasn’t much else I could say about it. “Well that’s good,” I said optimistically. “How much did he send? I could work out something to pay him back.”   
“Just enough to return to Atlanta tonight,” Desiree said.  
I felt my chest tighten and my voice grow hoarse. I hoped that it didn’t mean what I thought that it would mean so I tried to interpret her words differently. “Well that’s good. Maybe we all need a fresh start in a new city. I’ll get the kids bags packed and ready to go.”   
Desiree shut her suitcase and looked straight at me as though I spoke a foreign language. “You don’t understand, Jason. Daddy gave me enough money to return to Atlanta by myself. I’m going without you or the children.”

It meant exactly what I thought but I didn’t want it to be true. “How long are you going? Are you planning on coming back?” Her long look gave me the answer. “Desiree, why are you bailing when I need you the most?”   
Desiree sank down on the bed. “What you said about stepping up. I can’t do that, Jason. I can’t. Justin and Annabelle, they get into so much and they need so much. This is just too hard! I have to go home! I want to go home!”   
“Aren’t you going to think of us at all?” I asked. Desiree never answered me so I don’t know if she would have said yes or no. I’m not sure which answer would have upset me more. Instead I was angry, angry at my lost job, angry that I was going to have to face the hard times alone with my children, angry that this woman whom I spent the better part of almost two decades feeding her ego, tending her needs, and building her up was taking the coward’s way out. “Well take care of yourself, Puddin’. It’s what you do best!” I said sharply.   
Desiree just glared and walked out the door with her bags packed. She didn’t turn around or say anything not even when Justin asked questions and Annie sobbed, held onto her mother’s legs, and said that she would be real good if Mommy would stay. Desiree didn’t say anything except “For God’s sake, Jason, take them!” as they continued to cry and hold onto her. She didn’t hug the children or kiss me good-bye. She just left.   
I held my sobbing kids and whispered bitterly, “Good-bye forever,” to my wife as she entered the cab. I kept my eyes on that bright red dress as Desiree got further and further away from my life. 

After she left, I held the kids who just sat on the couch and cried in my arms. “Doesn’t Mommy love us?” Annie asked.   
My heart sank and I couldn’t tell her that I wasn’t sure, so I decided to lie. “Mommy loves you two very much. She just doesn’t love me anymore. We have been having some hard times and I think Mommy just wants to go away to be by herself for a while.”   
“We don’t have a Mommy anymore,” Annie said clinging to my chest. My shirt was becoming wet by her tears.   
“That’s not true, Baby Doll” I said kissing the top of her head and calling her by the nickname I had for her since she was a baby. “You do have a Mommy. I will be your Mommy and your Daddy and I’m never going to leave either of you. I promise.” I kissed her again then kissed the top of Justin’s head.  
“What’s going to happen now?” Justin asked.   
“I don’t know,” I said. “But everything will be okay as long as the three of us are together.” I forced a smile. “Hey we’re like the Three Musketeers, one for all and all for one right?” Both of my children cried themselves to sleep. I waited until after they were asleep, then I cried too.

I never saw Desiree again and never heard from her until a week later, I received divorce papers in the mail and a summons to mail her clothes and jewelry (The only things that she wanted in the settlement. The only things she cared about. Of course I sent them.) Oh I also heard about her a month later when I received an anonymous wedding announcement that featured Desiree’s marriage to a rich 55 year old man who was an old friend of her family’s. (I’m not sure that Desiree sent it or her parents, probably both to brag). That is all I know of her now, frankly all I care to know.

Looking back on it, I can’t completely blame Desiree for the failure of our marriage. Listening to Minkus’ account, it wasn’t quite the same as his. Desiree was never physically abusive with us, as far as I know she was completely faithful, and God forgive me but she wasn’t smart enough to be as cruelly manipulative as Jennifer. I don’t even really know that Desiree was as intentionally cruel as it sounds that Minkus’ ex was, so much as irresponsible and neglectful. There were a lot of reasons that it didn’t work out: the failed pregnancies, the unwise move to California, the depression, the constant financial struggles. But the truth was, Desiree was too young, narcissistic, and much too immature to be a mother.  
I can’t even truly say whether Desiree and I ever really loved each other. Sure we said it, sure we turned each other on. Desiree had these wild romantic fantasies about running away with the boy her parents didn’t like, like some star-crossed lovers thing and everything would be happy ever after. I felt sorry for her and felt responsible for getting her pregnant, so I decided to play the hero. When reality set in, Desiree needed someone to take care of her and me, well, I guess I liked being needed.   
She had been pampered and cared for her whole life. I pampered and cared for her as much as I could afford and sometimes more than I could afford. I resented her selfishness  
and her ego, but I certainly encouraged it by never denying her anything.   
She never wanted to face reality. She just retreated from it into her own world where only her needs were met and where only she mattered. Maybe I hoped that motherhood and marriage would change her and she would mature and adapt to our difficulties. Maybe I was too stubborn to admit defeat and prove my family and Eric and everyone else right that our marriage wouldn’t work out. Why should it surprise me that when signs of trouble hit, she would take the easy way out? If given the choice, I would have done that too. But of course I didn’t take the easy way out. I had a 6 and 4-year-old to think about and I knew things were only going to get worse for the three of us. If Desiree wasn’t going to step up, then I would. After all I was Daddy, all Justin and Annie had now. 

Author’s Note: Interestingly enough Rhett’s middle name, Otis, is the same as middle name of the real Jason Marsden’s, the actor’s, son. Justin’s middle name Max is of course inspired by one of Marsden’s most famous roles, Max, Goofy’s son, in the Goofy Movies.


	2. Justin and Annabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason bonds with Stuart and Katy and remembers his time of poverty, homelessness, and struggles raising his children alone.

What it Takes  
A Boy/Girl Meets World Fanfic   
By Auburn Red  
Chapter Two: Justin and Annabelle 

Minkus is wrapping up his speech and the counselor is calling for a 15 minute break. He walks up to me and I admit that I am a bit tongue-tied but he looks concerned.   
I am nervous. “You’re-“   
He smiles. “Here I’m just Stuart. Are you lost?”   
“This is the Adult Support Group for Abuse right?” I ask. Duh, what else would it be? But I’m not sure that I belong here. I had images in my head when I came here that the group would be all women and just me. I’m not even sure that I should be here and wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my supervisor. 

I had been having trouble concentrating at work and my supervisor, Donna, asked me what was wrong. I told her that Annie and Justin had been having nightmares for some time. Things should be okay. I am working now at a good job and we live in a nice apartment but some things had been bothering them. Justin seemed afraid of me at times. If he did something wrong, he constantly apologized making a bigger deal out of it than it was. Annie got clingy and ask where I was going and was worried if I was out even a second longer than I was supposed to be. She kept asking if I was going to come back afraid that I would leave her forever.   
I reminded them that we were together when things were bad. Justin then sadly told me, “But things aren’t bad anymore, Daddy.” Obviously, they thought that now that things were better, my feelings for them would change.  
I told Donna about the kids’ behavior and gave her some of the highlights of my unfortunate marriage. She said that it sounded like some of what her son went through after she had ended an abusive relationship. Then she recommended the support group for adult and child victims of abuse.   
“I thought you and your husband got along,” I said.  
“Oh Greg’s great,” Donna said. “He’s a terrific stepfather to Jayden but until him I hadn’t exactly had the best luck in picking boyfriends. Many of them were real losers and some liked to use their fists. If it hadn’t have been for going to these meetings, I probably wouldn’t have broken those patterns and got with a decent guy.”   
I was reluctant, but she encouraged me to try it promising to be there every step of the way. Unfortunately, the kids and I ended up going by ourselves. Donna’s mother-in-law had some kind of emergency so she and Greg had to go be with her, so Justin, Annie, and I are here by ourselves. 

I speak again to Stuart Minkus, or Stuart as he calls himself. He’s next to a pretty blond woman with a sweet face. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought. “I’m just glad to know that there’s another guy here. I mean when Desiree-my ex-wife-well I thought I was the only one.”  
Stuart nodded. It’s clear he knew exactly what I went through. “You’re not. Trust me, we’ve all been there.”  
What if they ask me to speak about my experience? Am I ready? Maybe I should be with Justin and Annie instead. “My kids are upstairs. I hope that this isn’t too much for them,” I say looking upwards.  
“I’m sure that they’ll be fine,” Stuart said as though he knew exactly that problem. I remember from the gossip stories. He had a teenage son with a weird name. What was it-Finkle? Sparkle? Who knows with celebrity kid names? They always like to outdo each other with originality. I’m guessing he had to look after his boy and worry about him as much as I had to worry about my children. “What’s your name?” he asks.  
“Jason Mars-“I stop. Like Stuart it might be best just to use my first name. I’m not a celebrity but I just got my life back on track. I don’t want any added pressures. Besides I share the same name as a famous actor. Imagine if the gossip got out that he was in an abuse support group rather than me. Wouldn’t that be one for TMZ? “Just Jason.” I say.   
Stuart leads me inside the group and introduces me to the blond. “Well, Jason, this is Katy and welcome to our group,” He says.  
“Hi Jason,” Katy says. She has a nice smile that instantly welcomes people. I wonder if she’s a waitress or a flight attendant something that works with people. She seems like someone who has that sunshiny personality.   
“Hi Katy,” I say as they invite me inside the room and lead me to the refreshments table. I help myself to some coffee and doughnuts while the three of us sit down. We talk about our kids and what we do for a living. Apparently Minkus’ son (Farkle! I knew he had a weird name!) and Katy’s daughter, Maya go to the same school and are currently dating. Also talk about weird coincidences, they are also friends with Eric Matthews’ younger brother, Cory and Stuart went to John Adams High in Philadelphia the same time I did! 

“Another Philadelphian friend of Cory, Shawn, and Topanga’s?” Katy mocks in annoyed surprise. “I swear that’s all this city is made up of!” She laughs to let us know she was kidding.  
“No, not them,” I laugh. “I mean I remember them, but mostly I was friends with Cory’s brother, Eric.”   
“Ah the senator,” Stuart says “If you can believe that.”   
“He hasn’t really changed much, sometimes makes me wonder what all of you were on when you voted for him” I joke. “But he’s a great guy. This state will do well by him.”   
“It seems to so far,” Stuart says and Katy nods. I agree. I don’t think that I would be where I am today without Eric believing in me and helping me every step of the way.   
Katy gets up. “Excuse me boys, I’ll be right back,” She says and raises a teasing finger. “No talking about me while I’m gone.”   
She barely turns her back before Minkus says, “Now about that Katy Hart she is just awful. I absolutely cannot stand that woman.”   
Katy smirks. “Oh that reminds me, I have to touch up my lips.” She takes out a small container of lip gloss and puts it to her lips using one finger (No points in guessing which finger).  
Minkus’ mouth opens in mock shock. “Now, Katy, we are in the House of the Lord! Does Maya know you do that gesture?”   
“First off Mr.-I’m-An-Agnostic-And-Proud-Of-It, the only Lord you are familiar with is Jack Lord-“  
“-From the original Hawaii Five-O,” Minkus adds “But not true. I’m also familiar with Lord Byron, Lord Richard Attenborough, and Little Lord Fauntleroy-“  
“-10 Lords a Leaping,” I add. Minkus shakes his finger as if to say, ‘that’s true.’  
Katy rolls her eyes at the two smartasses next to her “And secondly I’m just putting on lip gloss. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it,” She insists innocently. “Besides, Maya knows enough to do as her mother says not as she does.”   
We laugh. “Oh Shawn has a wonder with you doesn’t he?”  
“And Morgan is one lucky girl with you,” Katy says.  
I look from one to the other. “So you two aren’t together?” I ask.  
They both shake their heads. “No, no way,” Stuart says.  
“No, eww,” Katy says gently pushing Stuart’s face away from her.   
“Not at all hurtful,” Stuart says sarcastically. “Anyway, Katy and I are more like a brother and sister really. Even more so nowadays.”  
“Because your kids are together,” I reason.  
“No, well there is that as well, “Katy replies. “But Stuart’s girlfriend, Morgan, is the younger sister of Shawn, my boyfriend’s best friend and Shawn and Cory are like brothers, so now Stuart and I are practically family.”  
Suddenly it occurs to me who they are talking about. “They wouldn’t happen to be Morgan Matthews and Shawn Hunter would they?”   
Stuart nods. “The very same.”   
I remember. “Yeah Eric mentioned something about Morgan having a boyfriend, but he didn’t say his name and you and Shawn-“I say to Katy and joke. “I always figured that him and Cory-“  
“-Yeah I think we all lost money on that bet,” Stuart teases back.   
“Now you see why it doesn’t surprise me that you know that circle too?” Katy asks. “Now excuse me boys, nature calls and I have to answer.”   
“Classy,” Stuart teases as she walks away. Katy laughs and rolls her eyes. 

Stuart nods in the direction that Katy exited. “Katy was the first person I met when I came to this group. She has been very supportive and was one of the few people I knew that understood what it was like to have an abusive spouse. When I first came here, I felt how you probably feel right now like someone-“  
“-Who comes across as a real smartass?” I ask.  
“-Well I was going to say chip on his shoulder,” Stuart reasons. “But your phrase works too. I felt like I didn’t belong, always challenging everyone who asked if something was wrong, trying to be intelligent and strong and acting like I knew everything when the truth is I don’t know anything at all.”   
I realize that Stuart Minkus and I have a lot more in common than I ever thought. “I must admit you aren’t like I thought.”  
“You thought maybe my butler or my personal assistant would be at this group instead of me?” Stuart says wryly. I shrug and he continues. “No, they’re not. Actually it’s their day off.” He smiles and I know he’s teasing. “I don’t think that kind of thing matters if we have been through something like this. You still feel the isolation, the worthlessness believing what your spouse says about you, the desire to protect the kids, and the weight of the walls that you put around yourself even long after the marriage ended. Katy helped guide me through this process and I want to do the same for someone else.”   
“Thanks,” I say shaking Minkus’ hand. It’s nice to be able to trust others again. I spent so much time dealing with all of my troubles alone that I’m not even sure that I have the ability to be sociable again, but so far it’s working.

After I lost my job, I knew it would be a matter of time before we got evicted. It took over a month, but after I brought the kids home from school and spent a fruitless day job searching, we found our stuff outside the hallway.   
“What’s all our stuff doing out here?” Annie asked.  
“It means we don’t live here anymore, stupid,” Justin said angrily.   
“Daddy,” Annie whined.  
“Justin don’t call your sister stupid,” I corrected. They both look terrified and I held them close to me. “It’s okay, kids. We’ll find another place okay? We’re just going to have to do without some things.”   
“Like what?” Justin asked doubtfully.  
I picked up the kids’ schoolbags and an extra backpack. “Here let’s gather some things together. Take only what you can carry and we can fit in the car. It’s like um we’re camping or having an adventure or something.” I tried to be cheerful about this but I could tell they weren’t any more convinced than I was.   
We picked up only what we could put in the backpacks, important documents that I needed, change of clothes, blankets, pillows, and a couple of toys each for the kids. I took my cell phone, laptop, and some other things that I could pawn and we left.   
For a time, I collected unemployment and used the money that I pawned my items for which didn’t last long. We lived in various apartments going from one place to another. Unfortunately, thanks to budgetary problems the “great” state of California cut Unemployment Insurance including mine, after less than a year, so the kids and I ended up living on almost nothing but my savings. 

I went to various employment agencies and job interviews but never got the job. I kept going over in my head what I must have been doing wrong. Was my suit not pressed enough? Did I talk too fast or not enough? Did I not research the company well enough? Did they Google my name and find some embarrassing information about me (I didn’t see how I was never a big social media person)? I never understood what they didn’t see in me. I kept telling myself that they had their reasons and that I could learn from it for the next resume sending and interview receiving. Ironically these were things that I kept telling Desiree when she didn’t get acting roles (“They were related to someone.” “You were just the wrong type.” “You’ll find another one.”). I guess you pay for everything in life and no matter what you do, it comes back on you.   
I kept envisioning the person who got the job, some tall blond handsome WASPy guy in his early ’20s fresh out of grad school who was smarter, more experienced, and more eloquent than me. How could I compete with this invisible rival? He would always be better than I am. Even despite my doubts, I continued to apply for jobs knowing that Justin and Annabelle kept me going.   
Eventually I found a part-time job as a buser and dishwasher at a Skid Row diner called not-so cleverly, Hit The Skids. (The quality of the cuisine and ambience was every bit as one could imagine with a name like that). My job paid minimum wage and with cost of living being what it was, I certainly couldn’t afford to get us out of homelessness yet but I managed to put gas in the car and pay for food. I don’t even know that they cared who I was or my experience. They just needed a warm body to do the job, but it was the only thing that I could do for a living. It paid and I was able to work while the kids were in school. On the weekends or during the summer, sometimes they waited either inside the diner booths or outside the diner all day for my shift to get finished.

I picked up the kids from school. I was insistent that my kids remained in school, partly because of the Free Lunch Program, they at least had one free square meal but also because they could make something of their lives with an education. If I never made it out of homelessness, then they would. I was as strict as I could be about attendance, though I sometimes surrendered if they were too sick especially towards the end.  
After school and I finished my shift, we rode around in my car finding places to eat or parking lots to sleep in for the night. More often than not, I left the car outside the diner and we slept there for the night. After a couple of months, the car started having transmission trouble. I knew that it was falling apart, it wasn’t new when I got it. Finally it wouldn’t start. It just stalled behind the diner. Floyd, my boss warned me that if I didn‘t move the car then it would be towed. I apologized but said that I couldn’t do anything about it for now because I couldn’t afford to get it fixed.   
One day Justin, Annie, and I came back from school to find the car gone along with our backpacks, extra clothes, our papers including my driver’s license, their birth certificates, and the divorce papers granting me sole custody, (yes I know what an idiot I was to put those documents in the car). Also, some cash I put in the glove compartment for emergencies. Worse it was at least another week before pay day and we had very little in the bank until then.  
As my boss said, the car had been towed. I pounded the walls with my fists and screamed, “GODDAMMITT!!” out loud. Both Justin and Annie stepped back terrified that their Daddy was out of control. I calmed down when I saw the tears in their eyes. “Justin, Annie, I’m sorry guys,” I pulled them closer to me and scooped them into a hug. “I’m just so mad right now and so tired. But we’re going to be okay. Everything will be fine, trust me, everything will be okay.” We lived through that week by borrowing money from my co-workers and scavenging for food, which consists of picking up uneaten portions from sidewalk cafes, dumpsters, the ground, and from the diner itself. 

All of my memories after that became street memories. I just lived from day to day, hour to hour doing everything that I could to keep my kids and myself safe. Remember that movie, Pursuit of Happyness with Will Smith (It’s now one of my favorites because I relate so much to it)? There were situations that were a lot like that. I remember us riding the bus line all night just so we would be over a roof and they could sleep in one place.   
We also came to homeless shelters that could not admit any more people after a certain time of night or wouldn’t take us because they admitted single men but no children or single mothers with children, but not single fathers with children. Apparently, like abused husbands, single fathers having sole custody of their kids don’t exist.   
I remember many people were suspicious even hostile over the fact that I was a single father. Some shelters refused to admit us since I no longer had documentation to prove that they were my children. Some people asked questions like “Where’s their Mama at?” as though Desiree was waiting just outside with milk and cookies to give her kids a warm nurturing touch with tinkly music playing in the background. Some would be condescending saying “it’s nice that a father is so involved with raising his children” as if the kids were usually elsewhere and I was just the unpaid babysitter. 

What really got to me was one incident at the diner. Because Floyd was shorthanded, I waited tables as well as my usual busing and dish washing duties. I served two women. After I gave them their food and wiped off another table, one of the women described two children standing outside the diner looking dirty and ragged (Justin and Annie waited for me). Her friend said, “You know their daddy is some drug addict deadbeat or some welfare bum!”   
The other woman nodded as I tried to hide my annoyance about their conversation. Instead, I threw the diner dishes in the tray making the sound louder than it usually was. The woman agreed with her friend. “Their Mama is probably somewhere working her fingers to the bone looking after her babies while their Daddy done ran off. That poor woman involved with some loser who pregnanted her and ditched her and of course he leaves those poor little ones in the condition they’re in, poor, homeless, little things! What kind of father is he?”   
I slammed the tray down as the soap water splashed the table and my shirt. I knew that I would have to reclean the table. I walked up to the women, “Or maybe their Mama is in Atlanta with her 56-year-old sugar daddy and their Daddy just gave you your food and will soon be washing your dishes! If I were you, I wouldn’t gossip about things I didn’t know about!”   
The woman looked at me in silence then they stood up. “I am never coming back here,” one said. “You’re being rude!” They paid for their meal and left but not before one of the women muttered to the other, “He probably only has them on the weekends anyway.”   
Floyd saw the argument and he would have fired me but since we were in the lunch rush and he needed everyone to work, he didn’t bother. He just gave me a warning. I cleaned the women’s table and noticed that they didn’t leave a tip (What nothing for the deadbeat?). I just cleaned up after them. 

Life was hard for us. We spent about two years homeless. There were dark times. Originally, we took the bus but when money dwindled, we walked across Skid Row for places to sleep. If we couldn’t find a shelter, the three of us slept anywhere I could find, cheap motels, bus depots, restrooms, park benches. I would dumpster dive to find anything that we needed, particularly clothes, blankets, and sometimes toys for the kids. Since we now wore only the clothes on our backs and occasionally a few I found dumpster diving, I washed the clothes in the sinks, if there were any, rather than pay for the laundry facilities. When we had access to baths and showers I made sure that we used them, but often times we used the public restrooms to brush our teeth, to go, for me to shave, and for the kids and I to wash up using paper towels.   
I’m no boy scout. I had to steal to feed my kids. Sometimes I picked wallets, lifted purses from peoples’ shoulders or waists, robbed tourists while pretending to give them directions, or dipped, which is picking pockets in crowded places like bars or in lines outside nightclubs. I’m not proud of it, but I silenced my guilty conscience by reminding that I was doing this for Justin and Annie. In fact the only reason that I didn’t resort to bigger crimes like robbing convenience stores, breaking into houses, or selling drugs or my body was the ever present fear that if I were caught and arrested, my children would be left on their own.  
Often, we ended up sleeping on the streets, under a bridge or in an alleyway. I lit matches over cardboard boxes and old newspapers to create a fire and let the kids sit in front so they could be warm. I then laid down an old overcoat that I found in the dumpster and wrapped the kids up as a blanket. Then I would lay between Justin and Annie. I held them tightly as the three of us huddled together all night. I couldn’t protect them with anything but my seemingly all-powerful Daddyness.  
We were surrounded by drugs, gang violence, and quite often death. I tried my best to keep them from all of these things, but you can’t when it’s all around you. All I could do is hold them, shield them from danger, wipe away their frightened tears and answer any questions that they had. Sometimes I tried to lull the kids asleep despite the sounds of nearby gunshots, emergency vehicle sirens, drunks yelling, prostitutes and their johns or drug dealers and their buyers doing their transactions, or violent verbal arguments. I sat over them and never slept but a few minutes here and there at night, always wary and keeping watch for anyone who would hurt my kids. I consider it a miracle that we survived living on Skid Row at all.

I remember one night we were huddled under a bridge when some bum looked at the kids and said drunkenly, “Hey Munchkins, where’s your mama?” Neither Annie nor Justin answered so he continued. I could smell the booze around him. “How would you like me to be your Mama? Why don’t you come with me?”   
I didn’t like the leering way he spoke and certainly didn’t like the way he stared at my children especially Annie or licked his lips. He reached out for my daughter and she drew back in fear and gave a little scream. I stood between the man and my daughter and even though he was twice my size I grabbed at him. I didn’t have a weapon, but there must have been something fierce and deadly in my voice, because all I did was hiss, “Leave my children alone,” at him and he walked away. I then settled down and held my kids tighter.   
Another time, I put out the diner trash, as a large crowd had gathered outside the Cecil Hotel, a hotel that was just down the block from where I worked and that I considered checking us into. I asked someone what was going on and he answered. “They found some dead girl inside the water tanks. I guess she had been missing for months.”   
I should have been shocked or felt badly about her, but I think by then I was so jaded by darkness that I think I said something like, “Perhaps she didn’t think life was worth living,” and returned to work just relieved that the three of us didn’t stay at the Cecil after all. 

The kids dealt with that life differently. Annie was certainly the more vocal. With her dark curly hair and porcelain pale skin, she looks a lot like her mother did at that age and probably behaved like she did as well. She wasn’t spoiled like Desiree, but she was very emotional. She came back from school in tears saying other girls picked on her and called her Raggedy Annie because her hair was smelly or she wore the same clothes for days. Often times, she got upset at the shelters, yelled and cried, said that she hated it there and asked why we couldn’t live in a “real house.” When we had to move again, she stubbornly sat with her arms folded until I had to pick her up and forcibly remove her from the shelter.   
She wanted to wear pretty clothes or lingered at the toy store saying that she wanted the dolls there. She never threw tantrums, but she asked plenty of questions about why we couldn’t have them or she would cry. I tried to be as firm as I could be, correcting her by saying, “Annabelle, that’s enough!” But the truth was she was simply behaving like how a small child would be when her world is falling apart around her. She was also reacting to our situation sometimes how I wanted to. In some ways, I respected Annie for bringing out the emotions that Justin and myself couldn’t. She was expressing our anger and our tears.   
Justin however was different. He looks more like me with short dark hair and that cynical look, but he inherited his mother’s height thank goodness (He’s already coming up to my elbows). He is quite a smart kid, smarter I would say than I am. He sails through school when I used to struggle with lessons so he followed the news and understood as much as a kid his age could. If Annie would ask why she couldn’t have a certain toy, Justin would quote from new reports about unemployment statistics but would speak in a way that Annie understood and explained that too many people were out of work like Daddy and that it may be awhile before Daddy has enough money to get fun things again.   
He was also very quiet. He never said very much and only spoke if he was spoken to. He just observed our situation taking each move with a silent acceptance that still makes me ache. I once asked him why he did this and he said, “There isn’t anything I can do Daddy, so I figured if I make myself as invisible as possible then maybe it won’t hurt as much.” Justin also has been my rock. He has been really good at taking care of his little sister, watching her while I’m at work or playing with her to cheer her up. He has matured too much in this life, much more than any kid his age should have a right to. What would I do without either of them? 

There weren’t many good memories, but we had them. Sometimes I helped the kids with their homework quizzing them on things like multiplication tables, states and capitals, or spelling words or practicing writing letters or drawing pictures. I listened to Justin read out loud from his schoolbooks while I braided Annie’s hair. Those little relaxing moments made our problems go away for at least a few minutes and helped us to feel like a regular family and not just a homeless one.   
I also remember Chanukah. While I couldn’t do anything for their birthdays, I was determined to make at least one Chanukah a good time. We spent the nights in a fleabag motel and even though I didn’t have a menorah, I made do with used birthday candles that I lit as I explained the story of the Maccabees. I lit the birthday candles, one for each of the 8 days.   
The three of us blew out the candles and on the last day, I gave them their presents. I found an old Reading text book for Justin at a free book give-away at one of the libraries. It had some short stories, poems, essays, and excerpts from novels. I also found a doll for Annie inside a factory dumpster. It had slightly singed blond hair and wore a ragged denim dress.   
I thought the kids wouldn’t be happy with their gifts, but when they opened the plastic bags you would have thought that they won the lottery. They both hugged me excitedly and yelled, “Thank you Daddy!” I laughed and accepted their thanks. Even though we are much better off, Justin still reads from that book and Annie still sleeps with that doll, which she calls Emily. 

The biggest surprise was theirs for me. The day before, I had given them $2.00 each to spend on whatever they wanted. Since I often didn’t have extra money, I thought that for once they could indulge themselves a little. I was more surprised when instead of showing me what they bought, they handed me a plastic bag. I opened it to see a pair of shoe inserts.  
Justin explained. “You are always rubbing your feet, so we knew that your feet hurt.” I nodded reluctantly. I tried to keep any of my pain from them, but being on my feet all day washing dishes then often walking around the streets was hard on them and my back. When we did find a bed, I took off my shoes and rubbed my aching feet. Sometimes the kids offered to rub them for me, even though I teased them saying they wouldn’t want to because my feet stink. They each rubbed one foot and practically turned the rubbing into a race to see who could get it done faster and provide the most comfort.  
“We decided to use our money to get you something Daddy,” Justin said. They explained that the inserts cost $3.50 so they got each other a toy from the $0.25 machines in front of the store. Justin got Annie a plastic pink ring and Annie got her brother a plastic black spider.  
“It was my idea,” Annie interjected wanting to be the one in charge. Well what could I say to that except thanks? I put them inside my shoes and hugged my children tightly. 

We were barely hanging on, but we hadn’t yet hit the bottom until I lost my job at the diner. Food had become scarce for us so I picked up scraps while scavenging, particularly from the diner that customers left behind on their plates, a roll here, and some soup there, sometimes fruit or something. I kept the food and gave them to the kids as they waited behind the diner. If anything was left over (and there almost never was anything left over), I would eat. Even though Justin broke apart his half into another piece I told him, “It’s alright, Jus, you take it. I already ate earlier.” I made sure that my kids would not starve even if it meant that I had to.  
Floyd started to become suspicious about the disappearing food, even though it was meant to be thrown out regardless of whether the customers finished it or not. He caught me standing outside giving two rolls to the kids. He fired me there on the spot right in front of my children.   
With no job, no money there wasn’t much hope. I kept as brave a front as I could, but it was cracking. It cracked further as my children became sick. Justin was having trouble concentrating in school, certainly because of the anxieties and the lack of food, but he was beginning to have vision problems. He would need glasses and I couldn’t afford them. Annie was having throat problems and developed a cough. She had also become listless and barely spoke without crying. She got tired easily, so I lifted her up and carried her when we had to walk. They didn’t want to go to school, and I was too tired and sore from my hurt feet and back to argue with them about it. Nothing seemed to matter anymore except keeping them alive. 

One night, the three of us barely staggered to a shelter. I had already carried Annie. Justin trailed further behind and I asked him if he needed me to carry him as well. “I’ll be okay, Daddy,” Justin said sounding almost dead. But within a few blocks, I picked him up as well. They both felt warm and were so thin that I could wrap my fingers around their waists. My children were sick and I knew that if I didn’t turn things around for them, they might die. I could no longer protect them with my Daddyness. In fact my all-powerful Daddyness failed them.   
My legs felt like blocks and I was so exhausted by the time I reached the New Hope Homeless Shelter that I wanted to collapse on the streets, but I rapped on the door.   
The shelter director, a tall African-American woman, looked at me. Before she could say anything, I interrupted her, “Listen I don’t care if it’s after admission hours or if you don’t have any room, or if I violate some rules that you have because I’m a single man with children, but I can’t go any further and my children are sick. We need a place to sleep just for the night. We’ll sleep on the floor if we have to.”   
The woman, Mrs. Reynolds, pulled me closer and held me by the shoulder. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to fall down, but Mrs. Reynolds’ hold gave me some balance. “Calm down, sir, it’s alright. You may stay here,” She said and relieved the children from my arms. 

The three of us shared one bed but it was better than where we had been sleeping so neither the children nor I complained. I settled Justin and Annie in for the night, tucking them under the blanket and softened their pillow. The two had already fallen asleep, Annie with her head on her big brother’s chest and Justin with one arm draped around his little sister. They were both flushed and I could see their sunken cheeks. My children were sick, starving, and homeless. They almost looked like those demon kids, Ignorance and Want, in the Christmas Carol. They could die from all of this and it would be my fault. What kind of father was I to let them live this life of poverty and misery?   
I lowered the pillow right in front of their faces and my thoughts still haunt me to this day: I thought about suffocating them with the pillow. I might have done it too, if Justin hadn’t woken up and looked at me with wide eyes. He must have seen the tears in my eyes because he asked, “Daddy what’s wrong?”   
I lowered the pillow and gently lifted my still sleeping daughter’s head. I lay the pillow  
back on the bed as the kids lay on top of it. “Nothing, Justin,” I said knowing that I could never kill my own children no matter what we were going through. I would rather kill myself. “Just go back to sleep,” I whispered to my son as I ruffled his hair. I gave both him and Annie good-night kisses and lay next to them. 

I didn’t sleep well, so I woke up early the next morning. My sick children lay next to me, so I sidled myself out of their grasp and walked to the front office. “May I borrow your phone and the Yellow Pages please?” I asked. Mrs. Reynolds handed me the phone book and phone. I looked for the number of the Department of Family Services, wondering if maybe my kids would be better off cared for by someone else, someone with a job and a house who could give them books to read, toys to play with, new clothes to wear, comfortable beds to sleep in, good food to eat, and wouldn’t consider ending their lives. I mechanically dialed the number and a voice answered, “Hello, Department of Family Services.” I slammed the phone down on the receiver unable to complete the call.   
I lay my head on the phone, defeated. Mrs. Reynolds put her hand on top of my head and said, “God is always looking out for us and he won’t abandon you now.”   
I lifted my head and said wearily. “I haven’t been to Temple in years. I don’t think he’s listening.”  
“He’s with you every step of the way just carrying you along,” Mrs. Reynolds said “He’ll find a way to get you through this. Just don’t give up.” In the back of my mind, I thought I heard a familiar voice in my head telling me the same thing. 

I couldn’t find anything else to say, but out of the corner of my eye I could see that the TV was on. A familiar face had looked out at me from the screen. I thought how much the guy on TV looked like my old high school buddy Eric Matthews. Then I read the screen crawl, “New York Senator Eric Matthews Begins Term; Former small town Mayor was ‘Unlikely Candidate.’”  
My eyes widened as I asked Mrs. Reynolds to turn up the TV. The news report mentioned how Eric was the mayor of a small town in upstate New York called St. Upid Town and had been considered the least likely candidate for senator. His campaign was odd since his campaign managers were four middle school students but his platform was education and children’s care so to me it made sense. Despite the odds, he won.   
I shook my head not believing that my former best friend was now a senator. “Maybe, it’s a different Eric Matthews,” I said out loud. When I saw footage of his inauguration where in his speech thanked everyone who supported him like his friends, family, young campaign managers, and Mr. “Fee-hee-hee-nay” I knew he was the same Eric Matthews. Almost as though my fingers lived to themselves, I dialed information and then asked for Washington D.C. 

When I finally got Senator Eric Matthews’ contact information, I heard a young quiet voice saying, “You have reached the voice mail of T.J. Murphy, aide to Senator Matthews. I am either on another line or away from my desk but if you leave your name, number, and a detailed message. I will make sure that Senator Matthews receives it.”   
I waited for the beep and I blurted out. “Hi, I’m trying to reach Eric-uh Senator Matthews. Eric, I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Jason Marsden, we were in school together. Well, things are pretty bad. You remember Desiree? Well we’re divorced and I have two children. I’m unemployed and broke, and we’re homeless! We’re at the New Hope Homeless shelter in Skid Row, Downtown Los Angeles! I’m not asking for money or anything, I just needed to talk.” I mumbled the phone number for the shelter. I then said, “You know what, Eric? Never mind just forget it, forget I ever called.” I hung up returned to Justin and Annie who were still asleep. I lay with my arms around them and buried my head on the mattress not wanting my children to see my tears. 

Author’s Notes: Many of Jason’s experiences of job searching and his constant fear of why he didn’t get the job (including creating an “invisible perfect rival”) were based on my real-life job searching experiences. The longer you wait between losing a job and finding another one, the more those fears multiply believe me. Luckily, like Jason my own job searching troubles are over. 

The dead girl found in the Cecil Hotel is implied to be Elisa Lam, a real-life victim of a mysterious death. She had been reported missing for several days and her body was found inside the hotel’s water tanks after residents reported bad off-color drinking water. Surveillance video footage exists of Lam inside the Cecil elevator behaving very erratically, looking around as if being followed, and arguing with someone who cannot be seen on the camera. Theories have ranged from murder, to suicide, to death by supernatural means. While authorities have determined her cause of death to be an accident, no one knows how she got in the tank in the first place since it could only be accessed by staff and would have been difficult for her to get inside on her own. So the   
case is still considered unsolved.


	3. Eric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason, Katy, and Stuart talk about their exes and the steps that they had to take. Jason remembers the aid Eric gave him.

What It Takes   
A Boy Meets World/Girl Meets World Fanfic   
By Auburn Red  
Chapter Three: Eric

Katy returns as we dish about our respective exes. We talk about the various ways and means that they used to make us feel worthless, isolated, and alone and how we tried to protect our children from them.   
Stuart raises his coffee cup. “Here’s to three spouses from Hell if there is such a place,” he says. “May they return to their home world.”  
I raise mine. “And here’s to four terrific kids who pulled us through.”  
“And here’s to three born survivors,” Katy agrees. “May the good times finally come.”  
The three of us join our cups in a toast. 

Katy says that when her husband molested her daughter, she never liked to tell anyone. “I think that I felt like I deserved it somehow, like in punishing my daughter, Kermit also punished me. I think Maya and I just wanted to block it out. She got to be so good at it, that for a long time, I thought she didn’t remember.You never do realize what it takes to finally change things and accept help from others.”   
“What did it take for you?” I ask.  
“Well first I called the police and got a restraining order put on him. But he violated that restraining order so I kicked the sh-“She looks upwards at the picture of Jesus as though remembering that our meeting was in a church. She corrects herself. I guess she can camouflage using the finger but not swearing. “-stuffing out of him. He never molested her again.”  
Stuart and I nod approvingly but I meet his gaze and exchange a knowing glance that if he or I had done the same thing to our ex-wives, we would still be in jail. “Plus, thankfully my ex-husband found another woman and well-I guess he made the decision instead of me though I pitied her,” She hangs her head sadly. “Even with the restraining order, I admitted the beatings that he gave us, but not the molestation. I didn’t tell anyone until a year or so ago when I finally opened myself enough to trust Shawn, Cory, Topanga, and Stuart. I finally admitted it openly when I helped defend Stuart in court when he was fighting for custody of his son.”   
Stuart nods. “I wasn’t able to ask for anyone’s help until my son lay in the hospital after trying to kill himself.” Katy touches his shoulder in sympathy.  
I nod. “Yeah I remember hearing about that.” He looks confused. “At the diner where I worked, there was a newspaper and magazine stand nearby and you were all over the tabloids at the time.”  
“I was,” Stuart says and I can tell he’s being sarcastic. “How did I look?”  
“Desperate, probably unhappy,” I say. “They said all kinds of stuff. You put him in the hospital. She put him in the hospital. Aliens put him in the hospital. I think they even said he was an alien.”  
“They wouldn’t be the first,” Stuart jokes. “Jennifer’s family controlled the media at the time. They worse the could portray me, the better they liked it.”   
“What turned it around for you, Jason?” Katy asked. “When did you decide to accept help?”   
I shrug thinking of the many things I could say, but one reason stood out. “I was tired.” 

I didn’t expect anything to come from my call to Eric, a condolence call and offer of money if even that. Old friend or not, he was still a senator and a busy guy. He probably wouldn’t remember me, I thought. He’s completely changed, he’s become a snob. I didn’t think anything of it at first when a large African-American man in sunglasses appeared in the shelter. My children lay in bed so languid as I tried to build them up by making some suggestions from where we could go next. To cheer them up, I suggested that Annie and I could hear Justin read while I braided her hair. Justin shrugged and picked up his Reading book, though I could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.   
The large African-American man talked for a few minutes to Mrs. Reynolds who pointed at me and the kids. Justin read some poems by William Blake from his Reading text book. Sadly, I noticed he held the book in front of his face so he could read the words. His voice caught while reading “London” probably because they hit too close to home. I braided Annie’s hair and occasionally corrected my son’s mispronunciation of some of the words.   
“But most thro’ midnight streets I hear/How the youthful Har-uh Harlot’s curse/Blasts the new born Infant’s tear/And uh, blig-um blig-hit-”  
-“Blight rhymes with light,” I hinted.  
“What’s a blight?” Annie asked.  
“It’s sort of like a disease,” I answered.   
Justin continued. “Blights with um- plague the marriage he-uh he-ar-se,” he quoted.  
“Hearse,” I said.  
“The marriage hearse,” Justin repeated.   
“What’s a hearse, Daddy?” Annie asked as I twisted her hair.   
“It’s a car that carries dead people to cemeteries,” I answered.  
“Like we’re going to be,” Justin said sadly. I felt like ice unsure if my son was referring to our situation in general or that somehow he suspected that I almost suffocated him and his sister the other night. I met my son’s eyes, but could not see suspicion in them just fatigue. I laid down the rubber band I used to braid Annie’s hair and held his hand for a few minutes.   
“Are we going to be dead people, Daddy?” Annie asked with tears in her eyes.  
“Of course not, Baby Doll. We’re going to get through this and we’ll never die.” I moved my children to face me and looked directly into their eyes. “I won’t let either of you die.” They both lowered their heads and didn’t respond.   
I resumed braiding Annie’s hair. My daughter barely lifted her head as I ran my fingers through her hair. When I finished, I kissed the back of her hair and held Justin’s hand again as I heard a familiar voice say, “Oh my God, Jason.” I did a double take to see Eric standing across the bed. 

“Eric what are you doing here?” I asked.   
“You called me remember,” he said. I stood up to face him.  
“Yeah but I didn’t think you would come,” I said amazed.   
“Shows how little you know me,” Eric said purposely echoing words that I once said to him.  
Eric hadn’t really changed much. His hair was much shorter and he had gained weight. He wore a fancy pressed suit and tie, but he was still my old goofy buddy. Eric had the same big grin and still looked like everyone’s big brother. Eric gave me a big warm hug. “You haven’t changed a bit,” I said. “You still look like the same old Eric.”  
“Thanks,” Eric said. “You look…” It was clear that he was trying to find something polite to say and I don’t blame him. My hair was long, graying, and I had premature gray stubble on my chin and cheeks. I wore holey jeans and my dirty white almost gray t-shirt. I was so thin that I probably looked like a skeleton with flesh. He was probably embarrassed and ashamed to see me. My children didn’t look any better. Even though I braided my daughter’s hair, Annie’s bangs hung in front of her face. She wore a black dress with the hems cut and gray tights that completely ran and had holes. Her shoes’ lips were opened showing her feet. Justin’ red t-shirt was filled with black streaks, the Nike logo no longer legible, and his jeans had holes on his knees and rear. Like Annie, his shoes were completely opened at the bottom and he lost his laces long before then. My children looked as dirty, worn, and defeated as I felt.   
“You look,” Eric repeated. “Still short.” 

I smirked. Eric and I always liked to make fun of my height, so I felt a little nostalgic at his comment. Justin and Annie rose from the bed and both hid shyly around me. Justin stood behind me and put his hand on my shoulder as though he wondered what this strange rich man wanted with his Daddy. Annie just clung to my leg and wouldn’t look at Eric. I put my arm around my daughter and held my son’s hand.  
. “Are these your kids?” Eric asked.   
I couldn’t resist a sarcastic answer to my old friend’s question. “No, they’re their stunt doubles,” I said. I nodded at both of them. “This is my son, Justin and my daughter, Annabelle, though we call her Annie.”   
Eric knelt down and made eye contact with Annie. “Hi there,” Annie covered her face with my leg when Eric put his hand on her hair. “Don’t be scared, I don’t eat kids.” Annie rose her head slightly confused but unconvinced of Eric’s kindness. “At least not without hot sauce.” Annie gave a thin smile. “Well you’re a very pretty young lady. How old are you?”   
“6,” Annie answered.   
“Ah so you’re a woman now,” Eric said. Annie’s smile became larger and he turned to Justin. “And you, you’re almost as tall as your dad.”  
“It won’t take long,” I said making fun of my own height.   
“How do you know our father?” Justin asked suspiciously.   
“Well your Dad and I went to school together and have known each other for years. In fact I know him so well that I think of you two as my nephew and niche-“I rolled my eyes remembering that Eric used to always confuse the words “niece” and “niche.” He continued to talk. “So you can call me Uncle Eric.”   
“Can we?” Annie asked and Justin was silent but looked at me questioning.  
I shrugged. “Yeah sure.”   
“Senator Matthews,” the large African-American man who until just then had been standing by the wall silent. “The hotel is waiting for you to check in, sir.”   
“Oh thanks Agent La Chance,” Eric stood up and motioned us forward. “Come on let’s go.”   
My children and I looked at each other confused. “Go where?” I asked.   
“Well you’re not going to spend another night here are you?” Eric asked. “My aide booked us rooms at the Beverly Wiltshire.” He headed towards the door and then turned around. “Well you coming or not?” The kids sprang up from the bed excited. I moved more cautiously but we followed him. 

As the five of us checked in registration, I could feel the eyes of the guests and staff on the kids and me. I could see our ragged clothes and dirty bodies and the judgment in the eyes of the people looking at us. Their voices and body language seemed to say without words, ‘You don’t belong in here.’ A bellhop got the suitcases for another guest and purposely tried to avoid bumping into me. His face had the expression like he smelled   
something bad. I squeezed Justin’s shoulder and Annie’s hand tighter.   
“I’m Eric Matthews,” Eric told the desk clerk. “We’re here to check in.”   
The desk clerk who up until then hadn’t looked up and had her eyes on the computer said, “Of course Mr. Matthews and…” She looked up at us for the first time. “Guests,” she said witheringly looking at our dirty clothes and faces.   
Eric held out his hand for the room key card, but she hesitated. “Mr. Matthews are you not sure that your guests would prefer to check into a different hotel perhaps?” She hinted.   
I lowered my head and was about to leave with my kids when Eric held me back. “Is there a problem?” He asked.   
“Well no sir, but I think that your….associate,” She said probably wasn’t sure about our relationship. Was I Eric’s friend, brother, assistant, gay lover, she didn’t know! “And the children might be more comfortable in another venue.”  
Eric nodded as if he were trying to understand. He opened his wallet and I wondered if he was going to bribe her. I was sure that wouldn’t be good for a senator. But he didn’t bribe her, he only showed what appeared to be some I.D. The woman’s eyes widened in embarrassment as though she realized who Eric was.   
“Oh I understand, another venue,” Eric reasoned. “You know a colleague of mine, Diane, you know her as Senator Feinstein, spoke very highly of this hotel. She said that the staff is very friendly and approachable and often gave good reports on their behavior.” He removed his I.D. and put it back in his wallet. “I guess she must have been referring to another venue, my mistake. Good day.”   
“Wait Senator Matthews,” the clerk stammered no doubt realizing that she was going to lose a good paying client. “Of course your guests are welcome here!” She read the listings. “Yes two bed rooms, five beds total” She handed him the key cards for both rooms. “Thank you very much sir. I hope you have a good stay, all of you.”   
I nodded thanks to Eric as he invited us to come to our hotel rooms. 

The children enjoyed the fancy hotel room, playing with all of the gadgets and exploring the vast room. Annie played with the decorations and lay on the soft comfortable bed. Justin flipped channels on the TV and fiddled with the Wi-Fi. Guilt filled me as I realized how much the kids had been deprived from their whole lives.   
“Do you like this, kids?” Eric asked as he accepted some shopping bags from one of the bellhops who appeared at the door.  
“Yes,” both kids said in unison.   
“Thank you Uncle Eric,” Annie ran up to her “uncle” and hugged him.   
“Yeah thanks,” Justin said hanging back but smiling.  
“Well people who are going to visit a fancy hotel like this one probably should look like they’re visiting a fancy hotel like this one.” He handed the bags to me and the kids. “Go ahead open them,” Eric said as though the gifts were for him. 

Annie opened her bag with excited fervor. She pulled out a pair of magenta pink pants and a white and flowered T-shirt with kittens which said “I’m Purr-fect,” some white ankle socks with pink lace, pink panties, and a pair of pink Mary Janes. At the bottom of the bag were a group of Disney Princess barrettes. She screamed with delight and practically hugged the life out of Eric. She then ran to the bathroom and closed the door. The next sound I heard was water running no doubt from a little girl wanting to take a bath before she changed into her new clothing.   
Justin opened his bag a bit more carefully and pulled out a pair of blue jeans, a red, white, and blue T-shirt with Mario which said “Vote For Mario: Hero For Life,” white athletic socks, white boxers, and a pair of white and black Nikes. “Thanks Uncle Eric,” he said shyly.   
“You’re welcome,” Eric said. Justin was about to change into his clothes, but then remembered that the bathroom was occupied by his sister so he stepped back. Eric took out his hotel room key card and handed it to Agent La Chance. “Agent La Chance, could you accompany Justin to my room so he can shower and change?”  
Agent La Chance accepted the card and nodded. “Of course Mr. Senator,” He then held out his hand. “Come on son.”  
“You don’t have to hold my hand,” Justin said. “I take care of myself.” Agent La Chance stepped back and held up his hands in an amused “whatever” gesture and led my son into another room. 

My bag had a light blue long-sleeved button shirt, a crisp white t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans, white socks, white boxers, and brown loafers. “Thanks Eric,” I said. “They really appreciate these.”   
“Hey you’re welcome,” Eric said.   
“How did you know their sizes or even their sexes?” I asked. “I only said in the message that I had two kids.”  
Eric smiled. “My aide, Tommy Murphy, is smart I mean like ‘Mr.-Feeny-Knows-Everything-Scary-Smart.’ He was able to research their names and ages and pretty much guess their sizes.”   
We were silent for a few minutes so Eric said innocently, “So how’s it going with Vampira?”   
I shrugged bitterly. “You’re guess is as good as mine. Remember how she was in high school all spoiled, and demanding, wanting her boyfriends to wait on her?”   
Eric snorted. “Yeah, bro, I dated her.”  
I nodded, “Well add 17 years of marriage and two children, and it was pretty much like that the whole time. I really fucked up, Eric. From start to finish, our marriage was a disaster and not just a little one more like-an-iceberg-sinking-the-Titanic-during-a-10.00-earthquake-slash-tsunami-disaster and when things got bad, she bailed on me.”   
“God, I’m sorry, man,” Eric said sympathetically as he squeezed my shoulder.   
“Should have known better right?” I said.   
Eric shrugged. “Well you got two great kids out of the deal.”  
“Yeah, they’re my whole life,” I said remembering our sudden windfall. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. You’re going through so much for us,” I said. “You probably had to change your schedule, use your money, get a room booked-I have to know why would you do this for us?” I wondered if maybe there was some political angle. Was he working on some program to aid the homeless and was going to use us as his poster family? Was he trying to get a sympathy vote for a bill?   
Eric held me by the shoulder and looked me in the eye. “Jason, you called me. You’re my friend. What other reason did I need than that?” 

The kids eventually changed into their clothing. They looked completely different. I felt completely different too after showering, shaving off my beard, and changing into my new clothes. Eric looked at my son and daughter in mock surprise. “There are kids underneath all of that dirt,” The kids laughed at their uncle’s silliness. “I didn’t know there were kids in this room!” They laughed louder.   
“Well I’m going to order a pizza but I don’t want to eat it alone. Anyone else want to eat it with me?” Eric asked. Both Justin and Annie raised their hands and yelled, “Me!” Me!” “Sounds like a plan,” Eric said. I smiled at my happy excited kids. Agent La Chance shook his head at the scene, but he smiled too. Eric ordered pizza to be delivered right to our room. “I wish we could stay here forever,” Annie sighed comfortably.  
My heart sank as I realized that this was only temporary that no doubt Eric was just giving us a brief break from our troubles that soon we would be back on the streets and in the shelters. “Don’t you wish we could Daddy?” Annie asked.  
“Yeah I do, Baby Doll,” I said to my little girl sadly.   
I guess Eric must have sensed some sadness in my voice because he said all business-like. “Well, you can’t!” Both Justin and Annie’s face dropped in sadness and shock and I looked at them apologetically. I knew it. The three of us were silent until Eric said. “Because you’re coming with me to D.C. tomorrow and staying at my place for a few days for a vacation!” Annie and Justin smiled excited and Eric continued. “After that, I know of a place in New York that you can stay in temporarily until your dad finds a job.”   
“Really?” Annie asked.  
“Really, no not really,” Eric said rambling to tease her. “I mean yes really I think so. I don’t know maybe.”   
The kids were happy and thanked Eric. I wish that I could have been happy for us, but I wasn’t. I shook and felt numb. “Is it okay, Daddy?” Justin asked.   
“I don’t know,” I said uncertain. “I won’t be able to afford a new place, let alone in New York. It’d be just as bad as L.A.”   
“No problem,” Eric said. “I’ll pay for it until you get back on your feet.” Before I could say anything, Eric continued. “And it’s not a loan, you don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gift from one friend to another.”  
I looked at my friend incredulously. “Don’t you think the people of New York might be a bit upset that their tax dollars was spent for this?”  
Eric shook his head. “No, Tommy and I worked it out,” Eric said. “The money I am going to use is not from any budget or anything that is needed for the state. It’s out of my own personal income. That means I’ll have to do without some of the perks of the job. Yep, no skiing trip for your Uncle Eric.” He said pretending to be disappointed. “But I can’t think of a better use for it.”   
“It’s temporary until I find a job right?” I asked. Eric nodded. “So I still need to look for a job,” I reminded him.  
“We’ll work on that,” Eric said. “I have an idea that might work.”   
“So Daddy is it okay?” Justin asked.   
I was about to turn the offer down feeling like a charity case until I saw the long drawn faces of my children. I sighed. “Sure why not.” I said. 

Later that night while the kids were asleep in our hotel room, I watched over them.  
“Am I pretty now Daddy?” Annie asked as I wrapped my daughter up in her blanket.  
“You have always been pretty, Annie,” I assured her as I smoothed her hair and kissed her and upon her insistence kissed Emily. Then I turned to Justin’s bed and tucked him in straightening his blanket.  
“I like Uncle Eric, Daddy” he said.  
I nodded. “I know, he’s a nice guy.”   
“Daddy, if you were in school together how come he hadn’t talked to you before now?” my son asked.   
“I didn’t have any way of getting in touch with him until now,” I whispered.  
“Does this mean that we won’t be homeless anymore?” Justin asked.  
I held my son’s forehead in silence and ruffled his hair trying to hide my own doubts. “I don’t know, Jus. Go to sleep and try not to worry about it.” I kissed my son on the forehead and left our room to find Eric’s. 

I rapped angrily on Eric’s door. I didn’t wait for Eric to invite me inside when I spoke again. “Why are you doing this?”   
Eric looked at me confused as if I was the slow study. “You called me,” He said slowly. “Haven’t we talked about this already?”   
“Look, Eric so help me, if you have some political angle or are using us in some way for a goddamned photo op-!” I threatened.   
“I’m sorry,” Eric said confused. “Did you think that you were visiting Eric Matthews, Evil Crooked Senator? Because I’m Eric Matthews, your old buddy the one that used to shoot hoops with you, God we both sucked. The one that got us stranded at Tony with a Y’s garage the night I lost my license before the test even started.” I smiled at the memory. “The friend of yours who you tossed in a dunk tank for no reason at all.” Eric said in mock hurt.  
“You were a lobster, dude,” I reminded him.   
Eric continued. “I don’t have an angle, or an agenda, or a photo op, goddamned or otherwise, or any other reason beyond just wanting to help my friend. In fact Tommy placed an air-tight wall around the media that I’m on a private fact finding mission here in SoCal. If any reporter asks or sees you, Tommy prepared a press release to say that you are nothing more than old friends visiting the nation’s capital and there’s no tax money or special interests being used. I just want to help a friend in trouble, a friend who asked for it.”   
“I’m sorry, Eric,” I said feeling ashamed. I sank down on the desk chair. Eric pulled another chair out and sat next to me. “I just-I don’t know how to deal with all of this. One minute we’re on the streets, the next we’re in one of the richest hotels in the state. I’m just overwhelmed and I am grateful except- I uh should be doing this by myself and I’m not doing any good for them. All that you are doing just shows more and more how I’m failing as a father.”  
“You’re not failing as a father,” Eric said. “You’re the one doing all the hard work. I’m just the cool uncle giving you a break. You’re a great dad.” 

I shook my head, “A great dad, really? A great dad wouldn’t put their children in the situation that they’re in, wouldn’t leave them starving, sick, homeless. I’m no better than Desiree. All she did was neglect, abuse, and abandon her children. What I did was leave them stuck in this Hell Hole!”   
“But you never left them,” Eric said. “You’re with them every second. You couldn’t control what was going on, so you are riding it out with your kids. That takes a lot of courage and sacrifice.”   
“What kind of courage and sacrifice does it take to murder your own children?” I asked. Eric looked at me pale and drawn but didn’t say anything so I continued. “I knew that we were going to have to leave the shelter soon and be back on the streets and I couldn’t do that. If they were on the streets any longer, they were going to die. I held the pillow over them and I wanted to use it. The pillow was in my hands….If Justin hadn’t woken up…and then I would have drowned myself in the Pacific Fucking Ocean! Eric, I wanted to kill my own children! What kind of a father does that?” Eric was silent so I continued. “Go ahead, call your old buddy an attempted murderer. Call him a selfish bastard or a lousy father! Because they don’t even half cover the things I’ve already been calling myself!”  
Eric leaned over and gave me a hug. “Oh, Jason. I can’t even begin to tell you what you should feel about that except that you didn’t. The point is not that you thought about killing them, but that you didn’t. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in that situation to feel like you have no other choice. But you let them live another day. You gave them that strength and they gave you yours.”  
“Maybe if you weren’t here I might still have done it,” I said sadly feeling numb.   
Eric pulled me from the hug. “I’m here now, so don’t think like that okay? Don’t look behind you, it’s over. Look to the future.”  
“Isn’t that Politico-ese?” I asked.   
Eric gave a thin smile that his friend’s sarcasm was returning. “It’s just my advice from one friend to another. Come on, don’t be so stubborn and let me help you. I’m throwing you a lifeline, buddy. Take it.”  
“I’m not even really sure why I called you,” I said. “I didn’t expect all of this. You being here and the hotel and the offer to move to New York and me telling you all of that. I didn’t expect any money or that much help. I just wanted to vent, just to tell someone what was going on-“  
“-I know why you called me,” Eric said. “I think it’s more than you wanted to vent. Jason, you called me because you’re tired.”   
I couldn’t argue because it certainly was true. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” I sighed feeling like an old man. “My feet and back are killing me. It’s an effort just to walk across a room. I don’t sleep very much, because I have gotten into the habit of watching over my kids at night. I always feed them before myself and since they’ve been practically starving, you can guess how often I eat. Even breathing has gotten to be a chore these days.”  
Eric continued. “Not just your body. You’re tired of going it alone. You’ve always had to be the strong one. Even with Desiree you didn’t have anyone to help you out. The kids depend on you, but you don’t have anyone to take on the stress with you. I don’t think you really wanted to hurt them back there. I think you were just tired of your kids’ suffering and wanted it to be over and that’s why you called me. You knew that I would come. You wanted me to come. You called me because you want to hand it over to someone else and say, ‘Okay, I’ve had enough. You take it for a while.’ You need someone to tell you that everything is going to be okay. Jason, you’re a single dad, but that doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”   
I sighed realizing how true Eric was. For someone who was a few bricks shy of a load, Eric could be smart when it was important. Tears fell from my eyes and I shook with sobs. “You’re right,” I said. “I am tired. I’m so tired.” I cried resting my head in my hands. Eric put his hands on my shoulders, drew me into another hug, and whispered that everything was going to be okay. For the first time in a long time, I really felt that it was.

I’m afraid I don’t remember too much about our Washington D.C. vacation. I slept most of the time there. In fact I nodded off the first night in the middle of dinner while Eric and the kids talked about the places that they wanted to visit on their trip. Eric said that he had Agent La Chance carry me to the guest bedroom.   
One morning I woke up looking around me. What was I doing in this nice bedroom? I looked at the bed and realized that I was alone. “Justin? Annie?” I asked. Where were my kids? I always slept, or more often didn’t sleep, near them so I could protect them. Now they were gone! I ran from my bedroom to the living room. I was ready to leave and search for my kids in case they ran away, or had been kidnapped, or were with someone who was a complete idiot!   
I heard a voice say, “Good morning, Jason. It’s okay, the kids are with Eric.” I looked and saw a young man wearing glasses and had dark-red curly hair. He looked up from his laptop and his coffee as he spoke. “He asked me to come in, because he figured that you would be confused.”  
Well Eric was certainly right about that. “Well thank you, who are you?” I asked.   
“I’m Tommy Murphy, Eric’s aide,” he said. He invited me for some coffee. “How are you feeling?”   
I felt dizzy and light-headed. “I feel like I slept for a week.”   
Tommy nodded. “Close, try three days.”   
Panic filled me. “Three days?” I asked. “The kids must have been worried!”   
“They were, but Eric’s been with them,” Tommy replied. “You were physically and mentally exhausted so Eric let you sleep while he’s been looking after them.” I sighed feeling a bit more relaxed knowing that Justin and Annie weren’t in trouble. “Would you like some coffee?” He held up an empty mug next to the one he drank.   
I accepted the coffee and sat down next to him. “So T.J. Murphy,” I said. “Eric told me a lot about you. Apparently you’re something of a miracle worker.”   
“Well I don’t know about that,” Tommy said modestly.   
I nodded as I drank some more coffee. “No, it’s true. You make Eric sound intelligent! As far as I’m concerned that makes you a superhero!”   
Tommy laughed. “He isn’t always bright and sometimes is lacking in common sense, but he has a large heart and is a kind man. I like to show that side of him to others.”  
I like Tommy. He’s a smart nice kid. We had coffee as Tommy explained that before he was Eric’s aide, he ran a website called A Thorn in Your Side exposing political and business corruption. While conflict of interest keeps him from running the site now, he still has plenty of information which he has used to aid others. “In fact, I’m working on something now to help a friend of a friend who is in a custody battle for his son.”   
“So you worked with Eric through your site?” I asked.  
“Well I knew him earlier than that,” Tommy said. He explained how he knew Eric when he was about 6 and how Eric wanted to adopt him. Eric gave him up to a good family so Tommy paid Eric back by helping him in his Senate campaign. “I think our story swayed many voters,” Tommy said. “Many cynics would call it a sympathy ploy, but I like to think that people really saw Eric for who he is, a kind, generous, honest man who would never throw anyone away.” I nodded realizing how true it was for me as well.  
Suddenly, for no reason at all, I thought of Rhett. Would he have been like this boy, a smart tech-savvy kid who used his abilities to help his father? I sat for a while in silence. “Is something wrong, Jason?” Tommy asked.  
“No,” I said. “Well I just realized that I would have had a son a little younger than you.” I sighed. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time.”   
“I’m sorry,” Tommy said. He looked down at his mug. “I’m empty. You want a refill?”   
“Sure,” I said as I handed Tommy my mug. He refilled it as Eric and the kids entered. The kids hugged me happy to see their Daddy wide awake, so they jabbered about their trip.

The kids had a good time visiting D.C. Eric took them to see “The White House...the white building….the other white building…..the other other white building,” as he described it. Eric said that the kids really enjoyed it and that they were smart, particularly Justin.   
“When Justin was looking at the Constitution, he traced the words ‘Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness’ with his finger on the glass and looked upset. He told me that he was sad that it seemed that not everyone gets that,” Eric said. “But I told him that many people work for it and eventually get it, but some people like his dad just end up taking a little longer.”   
They even bought souvenirs. They got me a coffee mug which said, “First Dad.” Justin got a red, white, and blue journal which he already was writing in. Annie got a paper doll set of the First Ladies. I teasingly asked my daughter if she wanted to be a First Lady. “No way Daddy,” she said. “I want to be President, so everyone can live in houses and no one has to live on streets like us.”  
“Well Baby Doll you have my vote,” I said.   
“That’s one,” Justin teased. “Everyone else would be crazy to vote for you.”  
“No they won’t,” Annie insisted.  
“Yes they will,” Justin said. They continued to bicker until I broke up the intense political debate. As much as it annoyed me that the kids were arguing, it made me laugh that my kids were acting like typical siblings. They were acting like children, not the young adults they, especially Justin, were forced to become. I laughed so hard that I almost cried.   
Eric looked concerned, “He wasn’t in the liquor was he?” He asked Tommy who shook his head just as confused.   
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Justin asked, surprised but I hoped relieved to hear his father laugh.   
“I’m okay, Jus,” I said. “I’m just happy that you had a good time.”   
The phone rang and Tommy answered it. He said to Eric, “They returned the call,” He then handed the phone over to me “I have a call from a…Joe and Loretta Marsden from Philadelphia.”  
I gasped holding my hand to my mouth. “My parents?” I asked.   
Eric nodded. “I told them you were here and that it was up to them if they wanted to reunite with their son and meet their grandchildren.”  
I hesitated before I picked up the phone. I felt my voice grow hoarse as I said, “Mom? Dad?”   
“Jason?” I heard my father’s voice. “Is that you?” I had never heard him so joyful and happy.  
“Yeah Dad it’s me,” I said for once unable to come up with a sarcastic answer.  
“It’s good to hear your voice son,” my father said.  
“Yours too,” I said.   
“We missed you, Jason,” my Mom said. I could tell that she was crying.   
“I missed you too,” I said feeling tears come to my eyes.   
“Now tell us about our grandchildren,” Mom said.  
“Loretta,” my father admonished. “ You are making it sound like that’s the only reason we called. What have you been doing with yourself, son? Tell us, then tell us about our grandchildren.”   
I stifled a laugh and updated my parents about my life and their grandchildren.   
Eric waved the kids, Agent La Chance, and Tommy out of the room so I could speak to my parents in private. Just like that, I reconciled with my Mom and Dad. They came to D.C. to see the kids and me while we were still living with Eric. It was a great reunion filled with hugs, tears, embarrassing stories, the whole bit. Of course Mom and Dad adored their grandchildren. They also gave me some money even though I told them that they didn’t have to, but they insisted. During Winter Break, we are going to Philadelphia to see them. 

We moved to a short-term apartment in New York, which Eric helped pay for. I applied for a few jobs and even had some interviews, but not a lot of interest until I got a call from Jack Hunter’s office manager, Donna Valenzuela who asked me to come to an interview for an administrative position at Hunter Inc.’s New York office.   
I knew that Jack Hunter was a friend of Eric’s and he had networked with him for the interview. I wonder if Eric talked about my abilities as an employee or tried to appeal to his sympathy saying that this guy was homeless and had two kids and just needed this job.   
I faced Eric, Annie, and Justin dressed in a new gray suit, white button shirt, and black tie holding a copy of my resume and the notes that I took on the position, the company, and the database system that the company used. My hair had been cut and even though I was more lined and grayer, I sort of looked how I did when I was in high school.   
I turned around like I was on a runway. “What do you think?” I asked.   
“You look very handsome Daddy,” Annie said.   
“Yeah are you nervous?” Justin asked.  
“A little,” I said trying to overcome the butterflies, no make that pterodactyls that were in my stomach. “Thanks for the suit, Eric.” I said.  
“No problem I got it from Bloomingdales’ Little Boy’s Section,” I smirked as the kids laughed. Eric continued. “I had to take off the duckie logo. I thought, you know, kind of embarrassing.” I sarcastically laughed.  
“Wish me luck,” I said.  
“Good luck Daddy,” my children said together.  
“You’ll watch them until I get back?” I asked Eric.  
“Yeah sure,” Eric said.   
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours kids,” I said as I hugged Annie and gave Justin a fist bump and shoulder squeeze. “I love you. Be good for Uncle Eric.”  
“Okay,” the kids said in unison. “We love you too.”   
I was about to leave when Eric turned on the video game system that he just bought   
and said to the kids. “Okay, Justin, Annie, I’m going to take you to a place called Silent Hill.” I closed the door knowing, hoping anyway, that he was kidding. 

I was interviewed by both Jack Hunter and Donna Valenzuela. I was nervous but tried to hide it. I kept silently repeating my children’s’ names like a mantra knowing that I was doing this for them. I told them how experienced that I was in the database system since it was similar to the one I used at the insurance company, but that it appeared to be more user friendly.   
Jack explained that the position was going to start out in admin but will lead possibly lead to a promotion as office manager. Donna nodded, “I will be leaving for another opportunity at the end of the year so we are looking for someone who is comfortable in taking a managerial position in the future.”   
“Have you had any experience in leading projects?” Jack asked. I explained the special projects that I headed at the insurance company that helped coordinate the names and information of our clients.

They asked me about the rest of my work experience and a few other questions before   
Jack explained about the focus that he wanted to change in his company. “I want to take a different approach to this company to be less profit-driven and more people-driven to be more…humanitarian. I don’t want to lose sight of those goals. I am particularly interested in the character of my employees so I am going to ask you some behavioral questions. For example, what do you think is the hardest, most courageous thing that you have ever done and how did you overcome it?”  
I tried to think of anything that was work related, but in my head I kept repeating JustinAnnieJustinAnnie. Before I could formulate a professional sounding answer,   
I blurted out, “Raising my children has been the most difficult but most rewarding experience of my life,” I said. As I gave a brief synopsis about my life with Justin and Annie but leaving out many of the details about the abuse and homelessness. I just said how much I learned so much by raising them. I felt my heart sink knowing that I didn’t get the job since I mentioned some information about my personal life. I revealed that I was a single parent so in their minds I wouldn’t be available if I had a family emergency or for any late night. I just knew that I could kiss that job good-bye. I left the interview hiding my disappointment, but thanked them anyway.

I didn’t want to reveal my uncertainty to my children who were counting on me to find work or Eric who went through so much trouble to get me the interview, so I kept it to myself. But a few days later, I received a call offering me the job! I called Eric and said “What did you tell him? It must have been something good!”  
Eric laughed. “Jason, all I did was get you the interview. Jack said he could only give you an hour. You got the job on your own.”   
It’s a good job. I like the people and Jack and Donna have been very helpful in helping me adjust to the work. Plus, Donna has been great about grooming me as her future replacement and of course has been helpful in recommending the abuse support group.  
They have also been understanding about my situation at home with the kids though I try to leave as much of it as I can at home and not go on about it. But, I do have the kids’  
photo which I took right after we moved to the apartment on my desk, so every day I see my two little miracles smiling at me as I work. 

Now that things are financially better, my children’s health has improved as well.   
Eric and Jack’s friend, Dr. Rachel Friar examined the kids not even a month after we moved to New York. As expected, Justin needed glasses and Annie had tonsillitis.   
Dr. Friar was able to get me in touch with an optometrist who gave eye exams and glasses to low income families. Justin’s glasses fit his eyes and he is once again doing well in school.  
I also worked with Dr. Friar and another doctor who treated Annie’s tonsillitis at a fraction of the regular cost. Of course my Baby Doll was scared of her surgery. But I reminded her that she had Emily, now wearing a new blue dress and a new blond wig, to hold during the surgery and that her Daddy and Big Brother would be there during the surgery and would be there when she woke up. But she went through just fine and she hasn’t had any throat problems since.

The kids are now in 2nd and 4th grade at PS 73 and seem to enjoy their new school. They are doing much better with new friends, including Eric’s nephew Auggie, and are beginning to socialize and love learning. Justin has developed an interest in English Literature (all that reading out loud probably), particularly writing essays, short stories, and poetry.   
Originally his subjects were about our time of homelessness with titles like “Daddy’s Feet” (“Daddy’s feet carry all three of us/No wonder he’s always tired…”), “Life, Liberty” (“…They say we are free/But how come I feel like we don’t have a life?..”), “Invisible” (“..You don’t see or hear me in Skid Row/But I’m down here trying to find my way home…”) and my favorite, “Big Man” (“They always call Daddy little and weak/But they are wrong/To my sister and me/He will always be/Extremely big and incredibly strong”) Thankfully now he is writing on lighter topics.   
Annie is doing well in Spelling and Drawing and she has acquired quite a reputation as a leader in her class. (Perhaps she will become President. I tease her that when they interview me, as the father of the President, after she takes her Oath of Office that I will be in tears saying, “That’s my Commander-in-Chief Baby Doll.” She then teases me back saying I will be “Ambas’dor to Ant-ar-cica.”)  
I have even been looking at college and university brochures considering going back and getting my BA and maybe even Master’s in Business Administration and Information Systems.

Within a few months, I could afford to move the kids and myself to a new apartment. We had fun finding stuff to decorate the apartment and make it our own choosing all of the little things from furniture, pictures, and even stuff for the kitchen and bathrooms to say that the Marsden family lives here.   
We decorated the bedrooms in our own personal styles: Annie’s is pink with lace and ruffles with her dolls and décor of Disney Princesses and kittens. Justin’s is red and blue with his books and favorite character decorations like Star Wars, The Avengers, and Batman. Mine is deep blue with pennants of the Philadelphia ‘76ers and Phillies, my books, photos of the kids on one wall, and a framed copy of the 23rd Psalm in Hebrew on the other. (I figured that maybe if God was listening after all, then maybe I ought to give him some credit for what we have achieved. We might even start going to Temple again.)  
Above all our favorite time together is at night before the kids go to bed. Justin and I are in our pajamas and Annie is in her nightgown. I lie back in a comfortable armchair and prop my slippered feet up on the ottoman. The kids are wrapped up in their fleecy blankets and I wear my favorite bathrobe. Annie then sits on my lap and Justin sometimes sits on the couch next to me or the armrest in that older kid “I’m-too-cool-to-sit-on-my-Dad’s-lap-but-I-really-want-to” pose. Often he inches closer until he too sits on my lap. Then the three of us sit while either I or Justin read, or we watch TV or talk about stuff that happened during the day until the kids and I feel tired and I lead them to bed. That is when the three of us feel the most at home. 

The break is over and the counselor is asking for any new members to speak up. Obviously, she saw me walk in. I hesitate but Stuart and Katy lightly gesture and nod upwards. “Okay,” I nod remembering that this is what it takes to get to that point.  
I rise to the podium and feel my mouth go dry. Time to take the plunge, “Hello my name is Jason and my children and I were the victims of abuse.” After the others say, “Hi Jason.” I begin my story.   
I tell them about my unhappy marriage and how Desiree treated the children. Then I also tell of our time on the streets. They all seem to understand, even sympathize. I see no judgment on anyone. I realize how isolated my life with and later without Desiree really was. I couldn’t reach out to anyone and ask for help. Desiree had physically moved me away from everyone I knew and then I was emotionally and mentally put in a situation where if I had asked for help, no one would have listened. I had lost that ability to trust other people. Desiree took that away from me or maybe I just gave it away. Either way, Justin, Annie and my lives would be a lot easier if I wasn’t so stubborn. Eric practically had to force me to accept his and his friends’ help. Even though our lives are better now, I often felt embarrassed that I couldn’t pull us out myself. Looking at Stuart and Katy and thinking about Eric, I don’t feel so embarrassed anymore. 

Now the meeting is over. Stuart, Katy, and I walk upstairs to meet the kids. Justin is talking to a brown-haired boy wearing dark clothing. It looks like they are playing a game on one of the boy’s apps. A blond girl is having a bit of girl talk with my daughter. The kids notice their parents have entered. Annie and Justin run up to me. I pick up Annie and put my arm around Justin. The older kids turn out to be Katy and Stuart’s kids, Maya and Farkle who are holding hands.  
“Did you guys have fun?” I ask.  
“Everyone’s nice here, Daddy,” Annie said.   
I kiss my daughter. “That’s great, Annie.”  
I guess Justin notices a long look on my face. “Are you okay, Daddy?” he asks.  
“I’m fine, Justin,” I say. “Now, it’s time to get out of here. It’s a school night.”  
The kids moan in unison. “No,” they say.  
“Yes, you both have homework to do,” I say. “If we get home soon, we will watch TV and maybe read together.”  
“Okay,” they say reluctantly but gather together.   
“Will you braid my hair, Daddy?” Annie asks. I grin knowing how much the three of us still love those times. No matter what, we will always have these little rituals between us. No matter what happens, we will always be a family.   
“Of course Annie,” I say. “Come on kids, let’s go home.” 

The End


End file.
